


From Under The Peach Tree

by among_the_wildflowers



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, relatively accurate southern au by someone in the south
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 45,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/among_the_wildflowers/pseuds/among_the_wildflowers
Summary: Patrick isn't happy about having to pick up his life in the city and move to the middle of nowhere, Georgia. He isn't happy about how little there is to do there or how different the culture is to what he knows. He isn't happy about how the town's resident asshole, Pete, seems to think the only entertainment south of the Mason Dixon is bothering Patrick, and he certainly isn't happy that his type seems to be assholes who love to bother him.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 181
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

_ “Welcome to Georgia - state of adventure” _ the highway sign read as Patrick crossed state lines. Adventure was right. What the hell had Patrick gotten into? Subjectively, the scenery would have been beautiful - tall trees made up huge forests interspersed with rolling pastures and fields. If this was a postcard sent by a family member or a post on an acquaintance’s social media he would have thought it was a nice view but this wasn’t someone’s vacation or a stock photo, this couldn’t be put down and replaced with the comfortable hum of the city around him. He’d lived in Chicago all of his life, gone to university in the middle of the city and studied in a huge arts program, he’d planned on freelancing or getting a job teaching music at a school, possibly even working at a booking agency or studio in California or New York - this isn’t what he’d pictured.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and glanced left, the metal divider kept him from making a U-turn right there, he couldn’t tell whether that was a good thing or not. Even in his car and on a pretty major highway, it was eerily quiet. They were too far out from any cities to get any radio reception and Patrick’s phone had died, abruptly stopping his playlist. He pulled off the highway into the visitor center’s huge and vastly unpopulated parking lot. He hadn’t noticed how sore he was until he got out of his car and felt his knees almost buckle under his own weight. Steadying himself with one hand on the metal roof of his hybrid car, he stretched before grabbing his wallet out of the center console and locking the car behind him as he walked into the building. The air condition was blasting, startlingly so, especially in comparison to the 90-degree weather outside. The woman behind the visitor’s desk smiled at him before returning to her sudoku puzzle. After taking a bathroom break, he grabbed one of the free visitor’s guides off the stand and over to the desk “any chance you’ve got a coffee machine?”

She looked back up and gestured to a small machine with her pen “let me get you a cup,”

“I meant to bring one of those travel cups,” he said, feeling a pang of guilt as she rolled her chair over to a stack of styrofoam cups “for the environment and all…”

“Uh huh,” she muttered, handing him the cup “anything else, love?”

He pursed his lips. His first human interaction of the day was not going well. “That’s all.”

“1.27.”

He took two crumpled dollars out of his wallet and was about to walk away when she handed him his change but then she spoke again “long drive?”

He shoved his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans and laughed softly “yeah, left yesterday,”

“Sheesh, where’re you heading?”

“Winchester?”

She laughed again “oh hun, there’s a whole lotta Winchester’s round here. Which one?”

“Um,” he was so out of his element “not far from Florida,”

“Huh, Florida Georgia Line, not familiar with that one, sure it’s a nice place,”

He nodded politely and said a soft “have a nice day” before taking his cup over to the coffee machine mounted on the wall and filling it. He took his coffee and pamphlet back outside but, not ready to get back into the cramped car filled with all of his possessions, sat down on one of the metal benches. The flipped through the pamphlet for something that would catch his attention.

_ Welcome to Georgia’s Historic High Country Region! Enjoy our beautiful mountains, fresh strawberries, and historic cities! _

He sighed and closed it again, he didn’t have time or energy for any sightseeing, he still had another four hours of driving before he got… his train of thought trailed off. To where? Not to home, that’s for sure. To where he was going, he could settle on that. With that worked out, he pulled himself back to his feet, he shot a dirty look to the confederate flag hanging off one of the pickup trucks he passed on his way back to his car. Take that, centuries of racism.

Once he was back in the car, he reached into one of the bags in the back “come on…” he muttered before finding his phone charger and pulling it out “there you are,” God, he was losing it now. He plugged his phone into the car and waited for his lockscreen to light back up so that he could pull his directions back up. Another four hours driving in a straight line. Great. At least he had music again. That was something.

He got so used to following the highway south that he almost missed his exit when it came up. He swore as he swerved into the exit lane, glad to see that he hadn’t cut anyone off. His mom had warned him that people carry guns in their cars and won’t hesitate to use them if you cut them off or rear-end them, Patrick was pretty sure that was false but he was hoping to never find out. The exit took him to a small town with a few gas stations, motels, and fast-food restaurants but Patrick wasn’t heading to this lovely jewel of society, instead he continued down the main road of the town for another few miles even once the buildings disappeared, then turned off that road onto a road with even more faded asphalt until he saw the sign reading:  _ Winchester, Georgia 1 mile _

He watched the buildings for anything interesting as he drove down the town’s main road - a gas run-down gas station that Patrick didn’t recognize by name, a general store, a mechanic, a city hall that, without the sign, Patrick would have thought to be a house. There was a post office, a pet supply store, and a RadioShack (didn’t those all close years ago?) in a strip mall and two churches. A bowling alley. A few other shops but nothing interesting. He pulled onto a side road that had a few houses, but they weren’t next to each other, it felt like you could easily go 5 minutes between each house even while driving. He drove for 20 minutes or so before finding the address number he’d written on the back of his hand before he left but he probably didn’t need to, he hadn’t seen another  _ SOLD!  _ sign in the town. It didn’t seem like the place you moved to, it didn’t seem like the place you stayed in either but someone had to he supposed. He parked in the driveway and brought his wallet and phone with him as he unlocked the door for the first time. The house was nice - two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a huge yard with an orange tree. The basic furnishings were already moved in prior to his arrival as there was no way he could fit furniture into his car and he didn’t trust his car to pull a trailer across the country so he’d just have to unpack the stuff from his car and rearrange. The task was feeling very daunting, though, as he looked around. The house was easily four times the size of his apartment in the city. He decided that his first course of action had to be turning the air conditioning on as it was seemingly impossibly hot and humid. He decided that he would bring in the box for his bedding, take a nap, then figure out what he was doing next. After driving all night to save money, he was feeling like if he tried to unload much more than that, he’d end up falling over and breaking things. Sadly, he’d packed his bedding into the trunk early on in his packing, meaning that he had to take out several other boxes first. Just as he was picking up the box of sheets and pillows, he heard classic rock playing from somewhere further down the road. He shrugged it off before starting to reload the rest of the boxes back into the car so they wouldn’t be stolen during his nap when an old jeep pulled behind him.

“Hey! Glad we caught you,” the driver said, jumping down out of the car, his black, curly hair poking out from a baseball cap “hope we aren’t intruding,”

Patrick blinked at him for a second before clearing his throat “no, I, um, I just got here,”

Another man, this one with a long beard, walked up and elbowed the man with the hat “don’t freak him out, man, sorry, we don’t get a ton of new faces so don’t be surprised if everyone just acts like they know you already,”

A third man with short black hair, stood up in the jeep, leaning against the open frame “excuse them, that’s Joe and Andy,” he said, gesturing to each of the men in turn “I’m Pete. Need a hand unpacking?”

“That’s really not necessary, but it’s nice to meet you all,” Patrick said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“You sure? It’d go a hell of a lot faster,” Joe offered.

It wasn’t in Patrick’s nature to accept help from strangers but… at least this truck didn’t seem to have any confederate flags, and he should probably avoid making any enemies in a town this small “if you don’t mind, I suppose, that would be great,”

The one named Pete jumped down as well, a smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes “alright, tell us what to take and we’ll get you set up. Joe, think your mama has lemonade made up?”

Joe nodded before getting back into the jeep “back in a minute,”

Apparently, the whole southern hospitality thing was no joke.

“So you’re the guy taking Mr. Johnson’s job at the high school?” Andy asked as he took a box from Patrick.

“I guess. Was he a music teacher?”

Pete laughed as he propped the front door open with a rock “he was  _ the _ music teacher, we didn’t get more than one. How’d you hear about the job? We don’t get a lot of hires from outside the county, nevermind…” he walked back behind Patrick’s car to check his license plate “Illinois.”He whistled.

“You got a name to go with all these boxes?” Pete asked casually, but it felt accusatory, Patrick couldn’t tell if that was his imagination or not.

“Sorry, yeah, Patrick,” he stuttered.

“Nice to meet you then, Patrick,” Pete said before lifting a box of kitchen supplies onto his shoulder.

“You should turn off your AC while the door’s open, cold air’s gonna get out,” Andy noted as he set the box down in the living room.

“Oh, thanks,” Patrick said, going inside to hit the off button on the thermostat “honestly,” he laughed nervously before walking back out to take one of his guitars out of the backseat “honestly, I just applied to anything in the country that I seemed remotely qualified for and this paid the best of the offers I got,”

Andy and Pete shared a glance before Pete picked up the second guitar case, causing Patrick to speak up again “oh, please be careful with that!”

Pete briefly rested a hand on Patrick’s hip as he slipped past him in the doorway, “relax,” he whispered before setting the guitar safely on the couch.

Andy hit the back of Patrick’s neck as he walked back to the car “don’t take things that aren’t yours, didn’t you ever learn manners?”

“Oh shove it,” Pete pushed him, but he was smiling. Before the argument could continue, the jeep pulled back up and Joe hopped out, a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and a stack of plastic cups in the other. Patrick was getting the feeling he wasn’t getting his nap any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2

As Patrick tipped the iced lemonade against his lips, he immediately stuttered and coughed. “Woah there, doll, you alright?” Pete asked, patting Patrick on the back.

Patrick was convinced that he had been handed a cup of syrup and not lemonade as a prank but he just cleared his throat “yeah, I’m fine, just haven’t had lemonade that sweet before,”

“How else would you make it?” Joe asked, but he didn’t seem defensive or mad, just amused “without sugar it’s just lemon juice,”

Patrick shrugged, there was no point in arguing about something as trivial as lemonade preferences. His second sip wasn’t so bad now that he was expecting it. The fact that he could practically feel the grains of sugar on his tongue was still odd but he decided to think of it less like a drink and more of a dessert, that helped. Andy leaned against Patrick’s kitchen cabinets “are we the first people you’ve met ‘round here?”

“I’ve spoken with the principal a few times now, never in person, though,”

“Ms. Whitton,” Joe laughed “lord, she hated us,”

Patrick smiled behind his cup “did you get into trouble much?”

Andy scoffed then rolled his eyes at Pete as he pulled off his sweat-soaked t-shirt and sat on the counter “Good lord, were you raised in a barn?” He turned back to Patrick “you could say that we had some issues with authority.”

Patrick had to stop himself from staring at Pete. He was really attractive, all tan skin and muscle, though he was toeing the line between endearingly energetic and unbearably annoying. In the city, it was easy enough to look past personality and just get laid but somehow he didn’t think that would go over well here, especially not with another man. “Oh?” He said, realizing that he hasn’t really been paying attention to Andy since Pete had taken his shirt to reveal that set of abs.

“I wasn’t the one who got caught with his pants down,” Joe mumbled accusatorily.

“Not even with a girl, mind you,” Andy noted before glancing at Pete, who threw his empty cup at Joe. That certainly got Patrick’s attention.

“In my defense,” Pete snapped, a blush dusting his cheeks “coach didn’t give me the bathroom pass. And I wasn’t stupid enough to hide my weed in my locker,”

Patrick watched Pete look at Joe instead, who stuck his tongue out. He hoped no one noticed his disappointment at finding out Pete hadn’t been caught under the bleachers with another boy, he was probably the only man in this town who had, though it wasn’t a story he was proud of. 

“I set a car on fire,” Andy said nonchalantly but there was a hint of pride on his face.

Patrick raised an eyebrow “why?...”

Andy shrugged “anything goes in the fall,”

Patrick decided not to pry further, he probably wouldn’t like the answer. He didn’t have the opportunity even if he wanted it, though, because Pete turned to him, leaning slightly closer “any fun stories, ‘Trick?”

Patrick couldn’t tell if that was Pete’s accent or a nickname, he also couldn’t tell which he wanted it to be “not really,” he chuckled “I’m pretty boring,”

“Eh,” Pete chuckled, leaning back again “so are most people around here, you just happen to be with the most exciting group of people in the county,”

Patrick smiled, he didn’t doubt that “so, you all grew up here?”

“Yes sir,” Joe said, pouring himself another cup of lemonade “not many folks move here, you usually just don’t leave,”

“It seems like a nice area. Anything I should know?”

“Insult Mrs. Trohman’s lemonade and you’re fixin’ to get decked,” Pete said and Patrick couldn’t tell if he was serious or not so he just nodded.

“Everyone knows everything about everybody so no secret-keeping,” Joe followed up.

“Try your best to not make any enemies,” Andy finished.

“Oh,” Patrick laughed nervously “sounds easy enough,”

  
  


Patrick found that, despite how physically distant everyone was, he’d met more of his neighbors than he had in 25 years in Chicago by sundown. His neighbors down the street had brought a pie and another family had offered to have him over for lunch after church that Sunday, Joe had told him that his family runs the general store and that he should come by sometime, Andy’s father was the pastor who had left an invitation to that Sunday’s service in his mailbox before he’d arrived, and he’d most certainly met Pete. He found himself turning in to bed early that night as he’d never gotten his nap and his mind couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to his bright eyes and wide smile. He was infectious, and probably bad news, and knowing the south, probably disgustingly racist, homophobic, and every other term people had come up for generally bigoted. Patrick knew these were possibilities for everyone he’d met but yet… everyone was so nice. He’d never had neighbors bother to introduce themselves unless they needed something. Now, people from the town had driven all the way to his house just to say hi. That wouldn’t excuse bigotry but maybe he should give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they just needed to meet someone who was gay? Not that Patrick was opening himself to be that person, he’d had enough of that in public schools in Chicago, he was perfectly content tucking himself back into the closet for now. For how long, though? Until he saved up enough money to move back to Chicago? That could work. 

He exhaled and looked up at the dark ceiling, trying to make this feel like home but even with the familiar blankets wrapped around him, there was no buzz of the city. It was too quiet. He swore at one point he heard a real-life owl. He eventually sighed and pulled himself up to dig through one of his bags to take out his headphones. He had never needed music to get himself to sleep but he put on a playlist of white noise to drown out the silence. That worked. The next thing he knew, he was waking up to a - was that a rooster? He sat up, knocking his headphones off, and rubbed his eyes. It was very much a rooster. Huh, he didn’t know they actually did that. It was bright enough now at 6 that he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anyway, especially with having to get to work by 8. He opened the curtains and blinked at the sunlight starting to creep through the trees. He yawned, then cursed under his breath when he realized that he hadn’t set up his coffee maker or bought coffee grounds on his way. He had a granola bar for breakfast after taking a shower, finding that his body hadn’t gotten used to the temperature change yet and he’d been sweating profusely through the night, and packed a second bar in his work bag for lunch. He changed his outfit three times (too formal, too casual, acceptable) before giving up and settling for a pair of nice jeans, doc martins, and a black button-down shirt. He shaved and made sure his hair looked decent before loading his guitar and bag into the car at 7:00. He wanted time to find his classroom and set up his things before his first-class started. With a bit of extra time, he parked in front of the general store, smiling at the hand-painted sign over the door.  _ Joseph’s General Store. _

He almost didn’t recognize Joe behind the counter without the hat, his unruly curls nearly covering his face until he pushed them back when he spotted Patrick. “Hey there,” he smiled “what can I help you with?”

“Any chance you sell coffee? Grinds or fresh, I’ll take whatever.”

“Yes sir, how do you take it?” Joe asked, pushing a button on a home-style coffee maker “it’ll take ‘er a second to brew if you want to look around. First day?”

Patrick looked up from the stack of magazines he was flipping through, mainly focused around farm equipment, horses, or guns “oh, yeah, I guess I was kind of a last-minute hire. Black is fine”

“Sure were. Mr. Johnson decided one day to up and move to Orlando few months back. There’s some bags of coffee beans by the window if you want to take a look, but if you want grounds you’re gonna have to go to the Dunkin Donuts up by the highway or the Walmart, that’s ‘bouta hour north though.”

“The closest Walmart’s an hour away?”

Joe nodded like this wasn’t anything big before handing him the cup of coffee “consider that your welcome gift. Good luck on your first day.”

Patrick smiled and took it, thanking Joe before going back to his car and driving the rest of the way to the high school. He didn’t expect it to be that big but he’d been told in his application that it was the high school for all the local rural communities, putting it about 20 minutes outside Winchester. He was also surprised to see a tractor parked in student parking. He wasn’t going to ask if someone actually drove that to school because either the answer was yes and then he was rude or no and then he was an idiot, so instead he just took his things inside. He quickly flashed his faculty ID to the secretary behind the desk who pointed down a hall. It didn’t take him too long to find his classroom once he figured out the art rooms had their own building. He checked his watch and smiled. 7:50, that wasn’t bad. He sipped his coffee as he sat down at his desk, arranging the various handouts he’d prepared before leaving Chicago. He didn’t have a printer at home, hopefully the teacher’s lounge had one or he’d be driving an hour to Walmart in the near future. He looked up to a knock on the door. A man not too much older than him stood in the doorway, a paint-covered apron around his neck. “Oh, hi, sorry, I’m a bit frazzled this morning,”

The other man smiled and shook his head, his graying hair falling into his face briefly until he pushed it back, accidentally smearing a streak of teal through it from the paint on his hands “we’re all a bit nervous on our first day. My name’s Gerard, folks call me G, though.”

Patrick was relieved that Gerard didn’t try to shake his hand as he wasn’t sure he’d survive another awkward encounter. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Patrick. You teach painting, I assume?”

Gerard glanced down at his apron and chuckled “yeah, painting, drawing, you name it, so long as it’s two dimensional. My wife handles the 3D stuff.”

“3D design?”

“Ceramics. So where’re you from?”

“Chicago.”

Gerard looked like he was going to remark on that but was interrupted by a bell bringing “I reckon that’s my cue to get going. Good to see a new face ‘round, though, let me know if you need anything. I’m just down the hall,” he gestured with his thumb before heading off that direction. It only took a few minutes before high schoolers started entering the room. “Hey, everyone,” Patrick said, standing up, feeling like he was back in school himself and having to give a presentation in front of the class. This would be harder than he thought. “I’m Mr. Stump, I’m going to be taking over your music classes this year.”

Students were still quietly chatting as the late-bell hadn’t rung yet. Once it did, he cleared his throat “right. I’m going to call your names, since I don’t know any of you yet, why don’t you tell me who your favourite musician is instead of saying ‘here’, and if you have a nickname you’d rather me use, sound good?”

No response. Well, he wasn’t being booed and a few people nodded so he’d take that. He read last names off the list he was given, checking off either present or absent as he went.

“Sarah Ackerman?”

“Here. Um, Jason Aldeen, I guess,” replied a girl near the front of the classroom.

“James Adams?”

“Florida Georgia Line,” Patrick assumed that was a band and moved on. 

“Augustus Archer?”

“It’s just Archer,” said a boy followed by a few giggles from around the room “and probably Blake Shelton.” This was not as enlightening as he was imagining as he did not know any of these musicians. He was counting on a few more Queens and Metalicas but regardless. Perhaps he’d ask Joe. By the end of the list, he had a few he recognized, Lynard Skynard, ACDC, Elvis, and Taylor Swift all came up a few times so he wasn’t completely lost. 

He did the same thing for each of his four classes, two introductory music classes, a choir class, and an advanced music class. He felt alright by the end of the day, though he wished there was more than just 45 minutes per class as there was so much more he’d wanted them to do. He’d given each student a homework assignment to find a song that’s impacted them and say why just to get them thinking about music as more than background noise. All things considered, things could have been worse, he thought as he got out of his car once he was home. He’d been convinced his first day would be met with being booed out of the classroom or tripped in the hallway or any of the other equally unlikely and equally terrifying scenarios he’d come up with. Perhaps, he could actually do this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support I've gotten for this fic! I'm really excited about it and glad you're enjoying it! Remember to leave me a comment or reach out to me on Tumblr (lupinwritings) because it keeps me motivated and brings me joy! Thanks for reading! See you next week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there's a brief mention of lynching at the end of the chapter

“You really shouldn’t leave the windows open,” said a voice from behind him as he unlocked his door.

Patrick turned to see a girl he recognized from one of his classes, it was hard not to, he hadn’t seen many people with bright blue hair since he left the city. She was standing by the road but walked up when he turned. “It’s Ashely. I’m in advanced music. Sorry, I just thought you might want to know, even with the AC off, it’ll get muggy and you’ll get mold.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” he said, following her eyes to the window he’d left open to try and get some of the scent of mothballs out of the hourse “is there a, um, reason you’re-”

She cut him off and laughed “I missed my bus and I live down the road. I promise I didn’t follow you.”

He nodded “right, sorry. Thanks for the info, I’ll try and remember that.”

“No problem,” she smiled before waving and walking back to the road. He chuckled to himself before taking his things inside. Strange people, nice, though. He shut the door behind him and then slid the window closed as well. He should probably get groceries at some point. The general store had a good amount of stuff but he’d probably need to make a longer trip if he wanted anything more than chips and raw vegetables. With all the farms around, he’d probably have no shortage of unprocessed food if he knew the right people, shame that he didn’t. Until then, he’d be getting very acquainted with the stretch of highway between him and the Walmart. He wrote a quick grocery list on his phone before deciding to go before he got too tired and gave up, settling to eat another granola bar. The drive wasn’t fun, but he supposed it beat sitting in traffic for an hour. He’d one of his student’s favourite musicians on for the first few minutes then quickly decided that was not going to work and switched back to his regular playlist. One thing he realized about long drives on the highway instead of in traffic was that he could sing without anyone looking over and watching him while they were parked next to each other. Patrick was almost a little sad when his phone told him to turn left into the Walmart parking lot after he got off the highway. He was sadder when he saw the large billboard for the gun show at the next exit. At least it wasn’t this exit. He got the essentials which he hadn’t brought with him, several boxes of pasta and jars of sauce, a gallon of milk and a box of cereal, a loaf of bread, butter, and jam, several ice cube trays, a water filter, a coffee grinder, and a few more t-shirts. Once he got back home and brought the bags inside, he realized he should call his parents. It rang a few times and Patrick almost thought it was going to go to voicemail before his mom picked up.

“Hi, honey! How are you?” She said, clearly trying and failing to hide her excitement.

He smiled and leaned back against his door “hi, mom. I’m good. I just got back from the store.”

“How’s Georgia? Is it as pretty as the photos?”

“Oh yeah,” Patrick smiled, leaning over to look out his window “it’s gorgeous. And very hot.”

“Making friends yet?”

“It’s not college, mom, but I’ve met a few people. Everyone’s so polite.” He kicked off his shoes.

“I know it isn’t college but I still want you to be comfortable and happy, is all. That’s my job as your mother.”

“I know, mom, thank you,” he put his phone on speaker as he started putting groceries away “how’s dad?”

“He’s here if you want to say hi,”

Patrick didn’t get the chance to say he’d love to before his dad was already on the other end of the line “Patrick? That you?”

Patrick smiled “it’s me. How’re things there?”

“Oh you know us, same old. How’re you, though? First day of school go well?”

“I think so, my students seem more engaged than people were when I was in high school,”

“Feels like just yesterday that you were starting high school - and now you’re teaching it. Time just flies by.”

Patrick smiled and shook his head “sure does. Did you know that not every city has a Walmart?”

“There’s no Walmart?”

“It’s an hour away. I just got back.”

“You really are out in the woods. Well, make sure to send us lots of pictures. Your mom says it’s pretty there? And you’re making friends?”

“It is, and I am,” Patrick confirmed, putting the bags away under the sink.

“Well, maybe we’ll visit for the holidays one year. Could be nice to get away from the cold.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, dad.”

“What?” his dad said, farther away from the speaker “I’m not imposing, Karen, I’m simply saying that- oh whatever,”

Patrick chuckled “I have to go do some grading,” he lied “I just wanted to check in.”

“Bye, Patrick! We love you!” His mom called, his dad echoed a second later before they hung up. He’d considered moving back in with them but they had enough to worry about without their twenty-five-year-old son moving back in. Also, he really didn’t want to move back in with his parents. At least he had his own space here. And, he realized, no neighbors. He could play music without having to worry about only thin walls separating him from his neighbors. He took his laptop out of his bag and set it on the counter to play music while he put a pot of water on to boil. There was also no one else’s window right across from his, no one to look in or overhear as he half-walked-half-danced through his kitchen while making pasta. Tomorrow morning, he’d go check out the orange tree. Maybe he’d make orange juice. He didn’t have a juicer, but how hard could it be? He missed the endless list of things you could do in a city, but this wasn’t too bad either.

  
  


The next day was much the same but Patrick felt a bit more comfortable in his routine. After class, he stopped back at the general store. Instead of Joe, he saw an older woman behind the counter. “You must be Patrick,”

“Yes,” Patrick started before remembering what he’d read online on a BuzzFeed list of things to do in the south “yes, ma’am,” it felt foreign. Patrick hoped it didn’t sound as weird as it did in his head.

“Well, aren’t you precious,” she smiled “I hear you’ve met my son, Joe?”

“He helped me unpack,” he picked up a bag of coffee beans and a few vegetables that he thought would go well in a salad or in pasta sauce. He didn’t have the cash to do much more than that.

“I hear you’re working at the school?”

“Music teacher, yeah,” he set, setting the ingredients on the counter.

“Maybe someone from the big city will help some of our… more musically inclined youth prepare better. How are you adjusting? That all comes to 14 dollars.”

He hummed, counting the cash out “slowly, but well enough.”

“Want a cup of lemonade to go with that?”

“Sure,” Patrick said, gathering his groceries “that’d be great,”

Grocery bag in one hand and cup in the other, Patrick went back to his car. The sky was darkening quickly and he had a feeling that he didn’t want to wait around and see how dark it could get so he went straight home. He was surprised to find a letter poking out of his mailbox when he got there. After settings his things down in the office (the fact that there was a room in the house just for work was still baffling), he unfolded the paper which had been tucked into the box by hand.

_ Floating Friday night. Meet at Joe’s. Hope to see you there. _

Patrick had a feeling he knew who had written the letter despite it being unlabeled. He put it up on his fridge with a magnet. He didn’t know what exactly “floating” referred to but he supposed he’d find out Friday night. He took one of the oranges he’d collected that morning into the office with him to start grading. Most of his students had turned in their homework, only a handful having either forgotten or “forgotten,” so he had a stack of nearly 60 responses to get through. He had expected a town that didn’t even have a fire station would so many students but he’d gathered that most people didn’t live within the city limits. He couldn’t imagine having to go to a school an hour and a half away, his own high school, while huge, had been one of many within the city. He took the stack of papers out of his bag and set it on his desk to start working. Most were pretty standard responses, especially from the introductory classes:

_ I like Drunk On A Plane because the lyrics are really funny and it doesn’t take itself too seriously. _

_ This is Just A Dream by Carrie Underwood talks about losing a family member in a war. It’s a sad song, but also one many of us can relate to. _

_Humble by Kendrick Lamar because it's got a really good beat_

_ I like anything by Luke Bryan because he’s relatable. Who else brings a tractor to their concerts? _

_ Born in the USA’s criticism of American imperialism in a genre that usually glorifies it is very impactful. Shame more people don’t listen to the meaning of the song. _

_ Boondocks by Little Big Town reminds me to be proud of my hometown. _

Patrick set the especially well-done responses in a separate pile and once he’d read through all of them, he started making notes in a blue pen (he still hated red pens from his own time in school). Those who put less deep responses still got a check-mark and a 100% in the grade book but he wanted to reward the students who put a bit more effort in.

_ Springsteen’s lyrics are very often misinterpreted, I’m impressed that you picked up on his thinly veiled criticism of America in what seems to be a patriotic song. Good work. _

He glanced at the name written at the top of the page: Ashley Frangipane. Somehow, that wasn’t surprising. He was slowly getting to know the students that spoke up more often or had particularly insightful comments (as well as a few whose comments were notably uninspired, but he was still happy to see them trying). Once he finished grading, he put the pages back into his bag to hand back the next day. By the time he’d finished that, the sun was already on it’s way down. Despite the orange he’s worked on, he found that he was rather hungry. He took his laptop to the counter again but this time, instead of putting on his own music, he searched one the songs from the assignments. He was hoping to make this a recurring topic as they started to learn more about how music works so that instead of just saying a song sounds good, they’ll be able to understand  _ what _ makes it sound good.

He didn’t have high hopes for the first song but it was memorable. How could he not remember a student writing about the cultural impact of a song called  _ Beer For My Horses _ ?

_ Willie man, come on, six o'clock news _

_ Said somebody's been shot, somebody's been abused, _

Patrick didn’t consider himself much a country fan but the initial melody reminded him of the folk music he’d grown up around thanks to his dad’s record collection. The lyrics were… probably the sort of thing you had to grow up relating to in order to appreciate. The lines about “gangsters” being “hung up in trees” hit a nerve for Patrick as he knew what sorts of people historically were being hung. He decided that was enough of that song. His conscious told him that he should bring it up with the student the possible racist undertones to the song, even if it was probably unintentional on both the student’s and the songwriter’s part but he wasn’t sure that would go over well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little PSA here that I hope you take the time to read: I had some people let me know that they find this story unfaithful to what southern life is like and while I hear that and am sorry you couldn't relate to it, I've lived in a rural southern town for 15+ years and am basing this story off of my own experiences with being queer in a red and rural state. I put a bit of a rant already on Tumblr but I wanted to just let people know here too that I'm not basing this off of a tv show or stereotype that I heard: I'm basing this off of my own life, so please don't tell me that it's not what life in the south is like because it might not be your specific experience but that doesn't take away from the fact that it is mine. If this story isn't your cup of tea, that's fine, you don't have to read it.
> 
> And also, I'm Canadian by birth but have lived in the rural south for way more of my life than I did there, hence the extra u's on words, hope that clears things up. I've been told all my life that I'm not really a part of southern culture or that I'm not really American, I don't need to hear it here as well.


	4. Chapter 4

The next song that Patrick recalled the name of was one of the last sheets he’d read but also one that had caught his attention. One of his students had sworn it made her cry every time she listened to it because of the lyrics but Patrick also noted once it started playing that the songwriting and vocal control was also impressive and emotive.

_ I bet all I had on a thing called love, I guess in the end it wasn't enough, and it's hard to watch you leave right now, I'm gonna have to learn to let you go somehow _

The student was right in her assessment that the lyrics were powerful as well, though. It was the sort of song that made you feel like you were the one the story was about, even if it didn’t reflect your current state at all. He didn’t mind this one nearly as much, in fact, he thought it was a pretty good song, just not quite his style.

The next song he recalled was a high energy breakup song where the artist sang about giving up on love and other people’s perceptions of her, it was a good break from the emotional toll the last one had brought on. The harmonica solo was impressive even if it wasn’t an instrument Patrick usually cited as being a particularly impressive instrument, perhaps he hadn’t heard it played well enough. He nearly jumped enough to slice his finger off while chopping vegetables when someone spoke beside him.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a Miranda Lambert fan,” Patrick spun around to see Pete, one arm resting on the sill of his open window, that same obnoxious grin on his face as when Patrick had first met him.

“Jesus,” Patrick said, dropping the knife back onto the counter “it’s, um-” he paused the music and exhaled, urging his heart rate to return to normal “a work thing,”

“Uh huh, let me guess? You’re a Coldplay guy?”

Patrick leaned against the counter “is there a reason you’re here?”

Pete looked hurt for a second and Patrick was worried he’d actually gone too far there “well aren’t you friendly? Here I was coming over to bring you a gift and what do I get for it? Scolded. I suppose I’ll leave, tail between my legs now.”

Patrick rolled his eyes before wiping his hands on the dishtowel “fine,” he smiled “come in, door’s unlocked,”

Pete walked the few extra steps to the door before walking in “I hate to intrude but if you insist,”

“Am I going to regret this?”

“Unless you’re deathly allergic to tomatoes, no,” Pete smiled, handing him a basket of tomatoes.

Patrick took them and felt suddenly a bit guilty “Pete, this is… thank you, that’s very thoughtful, it’s not entirely necessary, though, everyone’s been so generous and I’m afraid I don’t have much to give in return,”

“No one is expecting anything in return, it’s just polite. Besides, they’ll go bad if no one eats them so, please.”

Pete nodded and set the basket down “did you grow these yourself?”

“Yes sir all by my lonesome,” Pete said, exaggerating his already strong accent before dropping it “I’ve got a farm down the way. Those’re the leftovers that didn’t sell off the interstate.”

Patrick supposed he’d never really considered how small farms actually sell anything. He’d always just assumed farms were all corporate and automated by now. “That’s really cool. If you ever have more rejects for me, I will happily take them off your hands,” he laughed “can I get you a drink or something? You look hot.”

“Shucks, you flatter me,” Pete winked, and Patrick knew he was joking but still… the twinge in his stomach showed that his body clearly didn’t know that. “I’m fine, unless you’re trying to get me to stay longer,”

“Temperature-wise, Pete. I was just making dinner if you wanted to keep me company,”

“Will I be paid for my services? My company doesn’t come cheap.”

Patrick rolled his eyes as he turned back to his cutting board “do you accept payment in the form of spaghetti?”

“I never turn down a meal,”

Patrick added some of the fresh tomatoes into the sauce from a jar and the second half of the pasta from the box to make up for the second mouth to feed “is it a family business?”

“Yep, been in the family since the civil war,”

“Woah. Cool.”

“You need a hand with the cooking or washing up?”

“Um,” Patrick looked around “can I put you in charge of stirring the sauce?”

Pete nodded and took the wooden spoon off the counter “how’s class going?”

Patrick watched him out of the corner of his eye while he added salt to the pasta water “pretty good. I’m trying to get familiar with the music my students listen to.”

“Ah,” Pete chuckled “and what do you think?”

“Well,” Patrick swallowed “there are a few themes I’m not too comfortable with but I-”

“Don’t tell me you’re a liberal, are you?”

Patrick held his breath and felt his mouth go dry. Fuck. “I, uh, I-”

But then Pete cut him off with a laugh “I’m kidding! You should have seen your face. But I guess that answers my question, though.”

Patrick exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair “you scared me, there. I’m trying to be respectful but… I’ve seen more confederate flags in the past 24 hours than I’ve seen the rest of my life. I didn’t know it was still that bad. I hope that doesn’t sound disrespectful.”

Pete shrugged “it’s… yeah, it’s not great,” he paused before looking at Patrick “the flags, I mean, not you saying that - you can be a full-fledged communist for all I care. It’s gotten better, though.”

If this was Chicago, this would be the part of the night where Patrick would have asked Pete if he could kiss him - but in Chicago, the only people who came over to his apartment were people he’d met at gay bars or on a dating site, not neighbors who came over to give him vegetables. He pushed the thought away. He wasn’t interested in Pete specifically but the lack of one night stands available to him was getting to his brain. “Sorry I brought the conversation down.”

“It’s fine, kind of glad to hear you’re not horribly racist or anything. That’d be a shame, considering… know any of the other teachers yet? I’ll tell you whether they’re any fun or not.”

Patrick chuckled “I’ve met a couple people between classes. Suppose I know the Ways best, their classrooms are in the same hallway.”

“I wasn’t much of an art student but they’re pretty cool,”

“What kind of student were you then, besides a bad one?” Patrick asked, curiously.

Pete laughed “well, you nailed it there. I guess I was pretty good at science and English, just didn’t like being told what to do.”

Patrick smiled at him, watching him stir the pot of tomato sauce “I can see that. Mind turning the heat down on that?”

“Sure thing,” Pete said, adjusting the knob on the stove “what’d you do in Chicago?”

Patrick sighed and leaned his head back slightly “whatever paid the bills. Played for tips or at bars if I could get them. Just wasn’t getting anywhere besides more in debt.”

“You miss it?”

“Yeah,” Patrick breathed “don’t get me wrong, this is great but it’s… it’s so different.”

“You could say that again. I’m glad you’re here, though,”

Patrick smiled before reaching over to drain the pasta “you’re sweet. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

“You’d be so bored otherwise.”

Patrick couldn’t deny that “life would be so much simpler.”

Pete looked like he was about to say something else but then he gestured to the letter on the fridge “are you gonna come?”

“I was considering it, as soon as I find out what floating entails.”

Pete laughed “it’s fun. We’re gonna head down to the river and get drunk in innertubes.”

“Is that safe?”

“Hasn’t killed us yet,”

Patrick laughed “very well,”

“Is that Patrick for yes?”

Patrick leaned over and slapped his arm gently “it’s a yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I posted that note last week, I really didn't expect as much support as I got as that wasn't the purpose I had for posting it but thank you all nonetheless. It means so much that people are enjoying what I write. Please don't hesitate to continue commenting or reaching out to me on Tumblr (lupinwritings) as it really does help me stay motivated to keep doing this.


	5. Chapter 5

It was raining the next day and Patrick expected the town to be gloomy and empty the way the city was but he was surprised to see kids playing in the gutters and mud puddles while on his commute. Even his classes seemed to be in an unusually good mood.

“May I ask a stupid question?” Patrick asked Gerard while on their lunch break.

“What’s on your mind?” The art teacher replied. They were both sitting under the overhang by the woodshop room, watching the cars drive past, splashing water onto the pavement.

“What is it with people and rain here?”

Gerard shrugged “rain gives a lota people a day off. No need to water the crops. Plus, a lot of rain means the harvests’ll be better.” 

Patrick hummed. It made sense. He wondered if Pete had a day off and what he was doing with it. “Plus,” G continued “means the rivers are higher. Good for rafting and fishing.”

“What do people do for fun?”

“Depends. Might head into the city or down to the lake. After the rain lightens up people will go mudding. What did you do for fun before moving?”

Patrick frowned a realized, as much as he felt like he missed that there was always something to do in the city… he didn’t really do much. He shrugged “I guess pretty much the same as I do now.”

“Which is?”

“Work, watch tv, play music,”

“You should play some songs for people some time. If you’re gonna be teachin’ everyone’s kids, folks should hear what you can play,” Gerard suggested, nudging his shoulder.

Patrick laughed and shook his head “I dunno, I’m not much of a performer.”

“Oh come on, bet you’re great. You sing?”

“Only alone in my car,”

“My friends and I played our homecoming dance when we were in school couple hundred years ago,”

Patrick laughed “really? Group still together?”

“Nah, Frankie moved back to Jersey when his dad got sick, Ray’s in Atlanta. My brother comes by for holidays and birthdays, though, he’s a few hours away.” There was a hint of sadness on his voice. “It was a good time, though, you should go for it, not like our standards are very high after me,”

“I’ll think about it,” Patrick said, watching another truck speed by, briefly going airborne after racing over a speed bump.

“We should be getting back inside. ‘F’ya ever want someone to play for, though, people’ll listen.”

Patrick nodded as he got up “I’ll keep that in mind. See you around,”

“See ya.”

Patrick had his advanced music class next, meaning he couldn’t get away with just teaching the mere basics as these students were past that education levels. They could each play an instrument at some level. When he entered the classroom, a few students were already there and tuning their instruments or just hanging out. He greeted them before taking his own guitar out of the case. “Friend of mine gave me an idea. I was going to give you all sheet music to work on, but how would everyone feel about taking those songs you wrote about the other day and having you all learn those? We’ve got a good collection of instruments here, and I can fill in where needed.”

He got some affirmative nods, people seemed happy to be learning to play songs they wanted to play versus the generic ones that everyone was tired of playing by this point.

“Mr. Stump?” one of the students asked “what instruments  _ do _ you play?”

He sat on his stool at the front of the class and checked the tuning of his acoustic guitar “well, I know guitar, piano, and drums. I’m pretty decent on a violin and a trumpet, but probably a bit rusty, though. I’ve got some basic knowledge of how to play a harp and banjo but not well.”

“Woah,” another student said “that’s really cool. How did you even learn to play a harp?”

“Thank you,” Patrick smiled “there was one at my university so I taught myself, figured I wouldn’t get another chance to learn.”

“Are we each learning our own songs?” a boy named Awsten who played the guitar asked. Patrick remembered that he’d written Head Like A Hole by Nine Inch Nails for his first assignment, which was a memorable choice.

“Along with others, yes, we’ll need to do small groups, probably… he looked at his notes of who played what and how competently they did so. By now, most of the class had arrived. “Right, what I’m going to do is we’ll do five groups of three, each group learns the three songs their members picked. Before you ask - I’ll be picking the groups. Obviously, I’m going to have to review the songs so we don’t get in trouble with the school. And… yeah, sound good?”

He got some excited looing nods, people were already looking around at the people around them and trying to figure out who they’d be grouped with. Patrick had his work cut out for him with this project but if he could teach everyone in the class how to play a song they loved, it’d be worth it. “While I’m figuring out how to split you up, why don’t you all figure out what instruments you’ll need for your song and start working on your own parts. I’ll get you your groups tomorrow.” As the first song started playing out of someone’s phone speaker, Patrick sucked in a breath “headphones, please.”

  
“Sorry, sir,”

He nodded before sitting down at his desk to start working out the groups.

  
  


Swimming wasn’t something that Patrick had to worry about very often in Chicago, it was usually too cold to swim but even when it wasn’t, there were few times when there was nothing else to do. Patrick got the sense that him asking for them to do something that didn’t involve him having to wear a bathing suit would go over well so he sucked it up and made the walk into down in a plain t-shirt and swim shorts. There hadn’t been a time left for when they were meeting so he assumed that 7 was safe, either they’d be there or they wouldn’t and he’d pretend to be buying something and then go home. The walk wasn’t seeming so long anymore, he was getting used to the lack of public transportation and either having to drive or walk everywhere. Half-way to the main road, someone honked behind him, making him jump.

“Want a ride?” Pete said, leaning out the window of his pickup, Andy and Joe were already in the bed along with several innertubes and a large cooler.

“Sure,” he smiled and accepted the hand Andy extended to help him into the bed of the truck “is this safe?”

Joe shrugged “probably not, but it’s fun. Want a beer?”

“I’m alright. I appreciate being invited.”

“Don’t mention it. Pete insisted, not that we were against it to begin with,” Andy noted.

Patrick glanced Pete, who rolled his eyes before glancing back at him and smiling.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Joe teased “I’d say Pete was sweet on you,”

“Oh shut up,” Pete protested, luckily drawing the attention away from Patrick because he was sure he was blushing “is it so unlikely for me to just be nice?”

“Yes.” They said in unison.

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Andy observed casually.

“Really an asshole,” Joe corrected.

Patrick leaned over through the back window “I still think you’re sweet,” he whispered to Pete.

Pete chuckled “careful, I’ve got a reputation to keep up,”

Patrick rolled his eyes and sat back up, this time accepting the beer now that they were out of the city. He was still trying not to lose his job. Pete turned on the radio and Patrick had to admit, Pete’s music taste was… it was pretty bad. An eclectic mix of 90s rock and country. Patrick tried not to be a music snob but after working in a record store all through college… his music collection was pretty good. Andy and Joe complained about Pete’s music choices, though, so maybe their’s was better. He learned that both of them preferred harder rock and metal as opposed to Patrick’s soft rock playlist, which Patrick supposed would be a step up in his mind but not ideal. “Your folks in Chicago?” Andy asked him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, pretty much my whole family is, your dad’s the pastor, right?”

“Uh huh,” Andy said “one of ‘em. There’s the baptist church too if that’s your thing.”

“And your dad’s…”

“Methodist, but he’ll take anyone, ‘cept Joe,”

“That’s not entirely true, I’m ‘always welcome,’ because your dad likes me.”

“True,” Andy chuckled “if he lets me in, no one’s too much of a sinner,”

Patrick smiled and leaned against the truck “why’s that?”

“He got real pissed when I said I wanted to be a Satanist, he’s trying to ignore it now.”

“Can you be a Satanist and go to church?”

“Church isn’t really a religious thing,” Pete said, which sounded contradictory “you can believe whatever you want but people just go to see everyone and get fed,”

“Except for Joe,” Andy noted again.

“I’m Jewish!” Joe pointed out but he was laughing “I’m sorry that I don’t go to church,”

“We don’t care that you don’t go to church we just want your mama at the potlucks!” Andy pushed his knee.

“Her presence is dearly missed.” Pete agreed.

“Is mine?” Joe asked before taking another beer out of the cooler.

“I suppose,” Andy sighed dramatically “her potato salad is way better than Mrs. Way’s,”

“Is this Joe Dee Messina, Pete?” Joe complained as a new song started.

“If it’s so bad then shy did you know the first line, huh?”

“Because everyone’s mama loves this song, honestly, Pete, we need to stop letting you drive,”

“Oh excuse me for having an eclectic taste, would you like to get out now? You can walk the rest of the way if you’d like.” Despite’s Pete’s argumentative tone, he skipped the song anyway “Patrick agrees with me,”

“I never said that,” Patrick clarified quickly.

“Oh come on!” Pete groaned “here I was thinking we had a connection. I can’t fucking win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments keep me motivated so feel free to give me any feedback you have! Check out my Tumblr for behind the scenes stuff and more fandom ramblings (lupinwritings). See you next week!
> 
> Also yes people go apeshit for rain because it means it isn't so goddamn hot, some of us get out of work/get shorter shifts, and people go mudding. I can't explain it it just is that way.


	6. Chapter 6

“Anyone else want one?” Patrick asked, taking another beer from the cooler while the other boys got out of the truck. He offered one to Andy when he walked up.

“I don’t drink, I’ll take a water, though,”

Patrick handed him a water bottle instead before Joe jogged over and grabbed two beer cans, handing one to Pete “you ever done this before, Patrick?”

Patrick shook his head “nope, most of my swimming experience is in pools, and when I was a kid.”

“Well,” Andy shrugged, grabbing a tube out of the bed of the truck “the idea is that you don’t do much swimming, but  _ someone _ ,” he glared at Pete “is a dumbass and like to pull people in with him,”

Pete grabbed a tube as well before opening his beer “that’s half the fun,”

“For you,” Joe laughed, pressing the side of his ice-chilled beer to Pete’s face making him jump “I’d say it’s more fun taking your tube privileges away and having you tread water,”

“Joe, you know that’s what gets him started, please don’t,”

Pete wrinkled his nose before pulling off his tank top, revealing that set of abs again “last one to the river’s the designated driver!” He yelled before racing off into the woods.

“I’m already the- oh whatever,” Andy laughed before clapping Patrick on the back “sorry about him. He’s an overgrown child but he’s… you want to grab a tube and we’ll head after him?”

“We’re not supposed to leave him unattended,” Joe added.

Patrick smiled before grabbing the last tube. They left their shoes, keys, and (in Andy and Joe’s case) extra clothes in the truck before following Pete’s footsteps down to the river. It wasn’t a far walk down the hill and they found Pete by the water’s edge, looking over the bank into the water.

“Narcissus discovering himself again?” Joe asked, throwing a stick at him.

Pete looked back and glared at him “there was a fish, and now you’ve scared it off. Feel good about yourself now?”

“Shut up about the fish and get your ass in the water, both of you,” Andy sighed, tossing his tube over the bank before jumping in. He followed the other boys leads and, after sliding his sunglasses over his eyes, leaned his head back on his tube. Instead of closing his eyes, though, he let his gaze move over to Pete who was floating beside him, beer can in one hand. Patrick had noticed Pete’s tattoos before but hadn’t taken the time to really look at them before. There was some sort of ring around his neck and clavicle but Patrick couldn’t make out the details and what looked like Jack Skelington from The Nightmare Before Christmas on one arm. Dork. He closed his eyes when he saw Pete lift his head, not wanting to be a witness in whatever crime was about to be committed but instead of hearing someone being tipped over after Pete got out of his tube, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” Pete said close to his ear.

Patrick opened his eyes again and looked up and upside down at him “hey,” he chuckled softly, keeping his voice low “what’s up?”

“Do I need a reason to want to talk to you?”

“I guess not,” Patrick smiled.

“What do you think of the river?”

Patrick was about to say something about how pretty it was before Joe groaned from his own tube “it would be better if we could get some peace and quiet,”

“Sorry,” Patrick chuckled.

“I’m not,” Pete joked, splashing water at Joe “don’t worry, Trohman’s just jealous he doesn’t have what we have,”

“Leave the poor boy alone, Pete,” Andy sighed “but since we’ve had our moment of relaxation now, how’s your first week been, Patrick?”

He supposed it had been almost a whole week since he’d gotten into town, but it was hard to focus on that when Pete’s hand was still on his shoulder “it’s - uh, it’s been good.”

“Heard you and G get along well?”

“Oh yeah, he seems nice, plus his classroom is right next to mine.”

“He was a fun teacher,” Joe mused.

“Only because he didn’t write you up for skipping to smoke in the bathroom,”

“That was really stupid,” Pete laughed, hand finally slipping off Patrick’s shoulder so that he could climb back into his tube “why didn’t you go to the parking lot like everyone else?”

“I was fifteen, let it go,” Joe yawned “remind me what you were doing at fifteen? Something really cool, I bet.”

“I only did that play because Ashlee was in it, you know that, plus they needed someone to play in the orchestra booth and they paid well,”

“What do you play?” Patrick asked, readjusting himself to see Pete.

“Bass, mainly, and guitar. Mama wanted me to figure out piano but my hands are too big,”

Patrick really didn’t want to think about the size of Pete’s hands or what that meant he was or was not capable of doing with them. “I never managed bass. Small hands.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘big hands’?” Joe teased “you’re, like 5’6, how big can any of you be?”

“Ask your girlfriend, Trohman,” Pete said, flicking him off.

“She has much higher standards than that,”

Shame Patrick clearly didn’t “what play was it?”

“Come on, Pete, what did you subject us all to so you could chase a girl?”

“ _ Oklahoma _ defined an era of broadway, though, I will admit, a painfully boring era.”

“It wasn’t a good year," Joe complained.

Patrick had to laugh thinking of a young Pete having to play along with performances of  _ Oh What A Beautiful Morning _ .

“Well, what about you, music man? What do you play?” Pete asked.

“Me?” Patrick asked before realizing that Pete was, in fact, referring to him “bit of everything, I guess.”

“You ever going to play for us?” Pete followed up.

“Why does everyone keep asking that?”

“Heard a rumor you play the harp?” Joe questioned “that true?”

“I do  _ in theory _ but I-”

“You play the harp and have to ask why people want to hear you play something? You’re pretty much Motzart in this town’s eyes,” Pete scoffed “do you sing?”

“I’m really not that good-” Patrick protested, “and I’m not much of a singer,”

“Can you back that up?” Pete countered.

“Can I - can I back up that I’m not as good as you think?”

“You’ll have to back it up by playing for us,” Joe agreed.

“It’s only fair,” Andy concluded “you should do it at the potluck,”

“Andy, we’ve been over this!” Joe said, kicking water at him “I don’t go to the potlucks!”

Andy laughed “even for Patrick?”

Joe rolled his eyes before glancing at him “if Patrick brings a harp, then I’ll come.”

“I don’t have a harp,”

“Then it’s settled, no church potluck for the Trohmans.”

“How much does a harp cost?” Pete asked.

Patrick laughed “a lot. More than we have.”

“How do you know none of us are loaded?” Pete countered.

“Are you?” Patrick asked doubtfully.

“No,” he laughed “so no harp.”

“No harp.”

  
  


“Are you making friends there?” Patrick’s aunt asked from over the skype call.

“Yeah, actually,” Patrick smiled, glancing at his computer screen before returning to taking the dishes out of the dishwasher.

“Thanks great to hear, no issues connecting with people?”

Patrick purses his lips “it’s… not as different as I thought. People are pretty cool. There’s some guys my age who I’ve been hanging out with and my coworkers seem nice.”

“You’re not just saying this to make us all feel better?”

Patrick rolled his eyes with his back to the camera before turning back around and leaning against the counter “I had some culture shock the first few days but I’m actually liking it here. Don’t get me wrong, I love Chicago, but it’s kind of nice to feel… seen?”

“Do you think we didn’t see you, Patrick?” She asked with concern in her eyes, pixilated by the poor connection but still evident.

“That’s not what I mean, Aunt Beth, I just mean that… seems like everyone cares here, which is so…”

“Weird?”

“Different. I mean, in Chicago, people who you see on your way to work don’t stop and ask what you’re doing and town and where you’re from, everyone’s caught up in what they’re doing,”

“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun and making friends. If you ever do want to come back, though, your mom or I would be happy to take you until you get back on your feet,”

“I’ll keep that in mind, I should get back to grading, though, trying to have the weekend off if you don’t mind,”

“Not at all, bye Patrick” she said “look after yourself,”

“Bye Aunt Beth. I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is so fun to write so I hope that you guys are enjoying it! It's been a while since I did fics with a bunch of characters and I forgot how much fun they are. Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment or reach out to me on Tumblr if you have anything to say! I love hearing from you guys! See you next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter is mainly set at a church service and the following potluck with a common theme being religion and homophobia, though no one is homophobic directly. If any of those topics make you uncomfortable, I've left a chapter summary in the end notes.

It had been embarrassingly long since Patrick had been to a church, not that there was anything wrong with not attending in Patrick’s opinion but he had missed it. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the service, a part of his mind worried the sermon would go full fire-and-brimstone. He’d steamed his pinstripe shirt and slacks, wanting to make a good impression and not seem disrespectful. He saw familiar faces in the crowd of people talking before the service started but it seemed that most people were local as opposed to the people who commuted long distances to attend the high-school. He’d think about the implications that had later on. He spotted Andy inside and was about to join him when one of his students called out his name. 

He found quickly that he was a topic of much discussion and many people were curious to meet him, leaving him only making his way to Andy as the congregation took their seats. “Hey,” Andy whispered, moving over to give Patrick room beside him on the wooden pew “I was starting to think you weren’t coming,”

“Just caught up with everything,” Patrick whispered back “is Pete here?”

Andy gestured somewhere behind them with as much subtlety as he could “with his folks, yeah,”

Their conversation was cut off when the pastor started talking “good morning, everyone. First of all, I’m happy to welcome Patrick Stump, many of you know him as your teens’ new music teacher or just our newest neighbor. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll get him up here one day to play some songs for us. Welcome to the family, brother, we’re happy to have you.”

An echo of greetings followed and Patrick waved awkwardly. He was glad to have the attention off of him when the service turned to a song instead where he could fade back into the crowd. When the song concluded and everyone took their seats, Andy nudged Patrick with his knee “you said you couldn’t sing,” he whispered.

Patrick clenched his jaw and shook his head “I don’t, really, just don’t tell anyone,”

“Why? You’re talented,”

“I just don’t want to be the center of attention. Shouldn’t you not talk in church?”

“I don’t even believe in God, I just come for the people and food,”

Patrick hid a smile behind one hand “your dad must love that,”

“He manages.”

  
  


The service itself was well-delivered and clearly personal. Pastor Hurley was objectively a good speaker, each word filled with emotion and passion. The service focused around starting off the school year or workweek on the right foot and staying dedicated to your task and faith. It was a fairly standard topic that Patrick had heard before as a child but there was nothing that set off Patrick’s gay panic instincts so he was happy about that. 

That feeling of being one statement away from never coming back wasn’t unique to Winchester, it was the same reason he’d stopped attending church back home as well. He got tired of wondering if this would be the time that the infamous “thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind,” line was brought up. He considered asking Pete about it but he wondered if that would start rumors. Political leanings were a spectrum and it was hard to be used to something you’d never been exposed to. He supposed he could only hold it against people if they had only ever been told one thing and never been given many opportunities to question it. He didn’t feel like he was going to be the one to serve as an example for them, though, someone else would come along one day and serve that role. He’d keep his head down until then.

The service let out to the yard behind the church where folding tables were set up with trays covered by foil, crockpots, and bowls of various other food. A few people were setting up lawn chairs or picnic blankets as Patrick would already tell that the chairs and tables set up wouldn’t fit everyone. Patrick decided it was best to just follow Andy as he got the sense that people had their ‘usual tables’ already and he didn’t want to intrude. He found himself smiling when Andy hung his jacket over a chair next to Pete.

“Hello Mrs. Wentz,” Andy greeted before flicking up the collar of Pete’s shirt “have you met Patrick yet?”

“I haven’t,” said the woman sitting on the other side of Pete. 

Patrick shouldn’t have assumed Pete was white but it had never really occurred to him that he’d made the assumption in the first place. He shook her hand and smiled “it’s nice to meet you ma’am, Pete’s been nothing but kind,”

“Well don’t  _ lie _ to her, Patrick,” Andy teased before sitting down.

“I’m very nice,” Pete protested, leaning back in his plastic chair to meet Patrick’s eyes once he had sat down “especially to Patrick,”

“You’re ridiculous,” Andy scoffed.

“So Patrick,” Mrs. Wentz started, interrupting the argument between the other two boys “you’re teaching music?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, surprising himself with how easily the foreign statement came.

“Well I hope your students are more invested in your classes than they were for our last music teacher,” she glanced at Pete, who was pretending to be very interested in the plastic tablecloth “some students liked to skip their music classes,”

Patrick chuckled and shook his head “I do what I can to keep people invested. I have heard that Pete was a bit of a troubled student, he seems to have turned out well, though.”

Pete mumbled something under his breath that made Andy laugh but Patrick couldn’t hear it, if Mrs. Wentz could she didn’t react. “I like to think so, has he told you that he went to Georgia State?”

Patrick raised an eyebrow at that, looking at Pete who was now looking up at the sky, possibly either praying or hoping for aliens to come down and take him. It was an odd thing to be ashamed of. “He didn’t. What did you study?”

“You know,” Pete said, standing up, “I think I’m going to grab a plate now that the line’s died down. Patrick? Want to join me?”

“Oh,” Patrick said, getting up probably too quickly “sure, yeah, sounds great. Lead the way.”

As they walked towards the food tables, Pete briefly rested his hand on the small of Patrick’s back “can you cool it?”

“What was that about?” Patrick said, stopping and looking at Pete.

Pete sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if fighting off a headache. His hair was slicked back and his royal purple dress shirt and slacks fit him a little too perfectly. “I just don’t like talking about myself, so please, drop it,”

Patrick pursed his lips “you talk about yourself all the time,”

“Okay, yeah, but not like that. Seriously, I just don’t want to do this right now,”

Patrick wanted to pry more but Pete looked genuinely upset “okay. I’m sorry. I was just curious. I never knew you went to college.”

“Yeah, well,” Pete shrugged before making his way to the tables “now you know,”

“That’s in Atlanta, right?”

“Patrick,”

“Sorry. Dropping it.”

“Thank you.”

“I was pleased to see you in the crowd today,” said Pastor Hurley said, coming into the food line beside him “I’ve heard quite a lot about you from Andy,”

“Oh,” Patrick laughed nervously “good things I hope?”

Pastor Hurley nodded and laughed more sincerely than Patrick could have managed “very good things. I’m glad to see you’ve already found friends. I hope you didn’t mind me putting you in the spotlight during the service,” 

Pete leaned over and muttered something about seeing him later before quickly saying hello to the paster and going back to the table. Patrick tried his best to not watch him go. They got to the end of the food tables and stepped back to not block anyone’s access to the pasta salad bowl “it was fine,” Patrick smiled “though I’m really not used to this much attention,” 

“Everybody dies famous in a small town. The fuss will die down in a while so long as you stay out of trouble,”

Patrick clenched his teeth as he nodded “I’m not really the scandalous type,”

The pastor laughed again and clapped him on the shoulder “then you should be just fine. And, if you ever did want to help us out with the hymns or anything, we could use someone to liven up the music, get the younger generation involved and all. I’d ask Andy but he’s…”

“I’ll think about it,” Patrick said “it was a great service, by the way,” he added, remembering the manners drilled into him as a child.

“Thank you. I hope to see you next week then?”

“I’ll be here,”

“We’re happy to have you then. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some people I should say hi to before they leave. Great to meet you, Patrick.”

“You too, Pastor,”

  
  


Mrs. Wentz left early to go walk to a friends’ house with some of the other church women so Pete offered to walk Patrick home. They walked in silence for a few minutes until they got out of the real town and all they could hear was the quiet hum of the highway in the distance and the road under their feet. “I had a lot of fun on Friday,” Patrick eventually said, breaking the silence “thanks for inviting me,”

“How’d you know it was my idea to invite you?” Pete asked, glancing at him. He’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt and left his tie draped untied around his neck. Patrick thought that was a gift directly from God and then that if he wasn’t going to hell before, he was after that thought.

“I didn’t, but I had a hunch,”

Pete laughed softly “well, I guess you know now. I’m glad you had fun. This place not as boring as you’d thought?”

“Depends on who you’re with. I think you could make just anywhere fun.”

Pete ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up and causing it to fall into his eyes and now Patrick was  _ definitely _ going to hell. “You flatter me. If I didn’t know better I’d say you had some sort of ulterior motive,”

“How do you know I don’t?”

Pete raised an eyebrow “do you?”

Patrick shrugged “never know, I might be trying to harvest your organs or something,”

Pete chuckled and shook his head “right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Patrick stopped in his driveway and leaned back on his heels “do you want to come in?”   
  


“Well, considering that you might be trying to put me on ice and sell my organs to the black market, I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh come on,” Patrick said, stepping forward to bat his shoulder “you know I’m joking,”

“I know,” Pete said, catching Patrick’s wrist before it could fall back to his side “but I should get back to work. I’ll see you soon, though?”

“I hope so,”

“Jesus,” Pete laughed “you’re so… get yourself inside. See you later, ‘Trick.”

Patrick probably would have given just about anything to know what Pete stopped himself from saying but instead, he just waved and went inside. He spent most of that day regretting that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary: Patrick goes to church and is welcomed by the community, causing him to feel awkward because he doesn't like being the center of attention. Patrick has an internal monologue moment about how he stopped going to church because he was paranoid the topic would be about the bible condemning homosexuality. After one of the hymns, Andy points out that Patrick is a good singer and should sing more, Patrick tells him not to tell anyone. After the service, Patrick sits with Andy, Pete, and Pete's mom. He learns that Pete went to Georgia State but Pete won't tell him anything about it. His conversation with Pete is interrupted when Pastor Hurley pulls him aside to introduce himself and welcome Patrick to the community again. After the potluck, Pete walks Patrick home.
> 
> Thank you guys for reading! Comments keep me motivated! You can also reach out to me on tumblr (lupinwritings). See you next week!


	8. Chapter 8

Patrick was determined to respect Pete’s privacy when it came to not wanting to talk about his university experience but it was difficult. Pete was so much more complex than Patrick had expected and he desperately wanted to know more about him. Everyone Patrick had met was far more complex, now that he thought of it. That thought made him feel guilty. He sighed as he reformatted another handout on his laptop, his mind not able to stay on work. It wasn’t entirely his fault, he supposed, he’d always been fed the idea that rural people were just less educated and all similar but he felt awful for accepting it so quickly. Had he really never questioned that? He’d always figured they deserved it for the civil rights violations that occurred in the south but, fuck, those weren’t just in the south. Chicago was just as guilty as Winchester. Perhaps Chicago even had more to account for considering the narrative perpetuated that the north was anti-racism when he’d seen firsthand how segregated the city still was.

He sipped his long-cold coffee and propped his chin on his hand. He finally sighed and gave up on the document, saving it and shutting his laptop - the formatting was fine, he told himself. He hadn’t realized how late it had gotten while he overthought in his windowless office until he walked into the living room and saw the space turned a deep amber from the setting sun. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to this, he thought as he stepped onto his front porch and leaned against the wooden railing. The cicadas were especially loud tonight and the air was warm and heavy. It probably would have been uncomfortable if he was doing anything besides looking out over the tops of the trees across the road and watching the shadows lengthen but as Patrick stood in silence and watched the world around him, he was happy to just feel the last moments of sunlight for the day on his skin. He was startled back to reality when from somewhere down the road, a car alarm blared. It was easy to forget that he wasn’t really all that alone here. He should get a pet. He’d seen a few papers around town that someone’s cat had a litter of kittens that needed homes, he’d never been much of a cat person before but he liked the idea of having someone else around the house.

He’d never had a pet before. Sure, he’d had family pets when he was younger but he’d never had his own pet before under his name and all, it seemed like an important step of adulthood. He wondered if he was responsible enough for a pet, lord knew he was pretty bad at looking after himself. He decided that it was best that he went back inside and got started on dinner before he made any impulsive decisions.

  
  


“Hey, Patrick,” Joe said, looking up from his crossword when Patrick opened the door.

“G’morning,” Patrick hid a yawn behind the back of his hand “how was your weekend?”

Joe shrugged “pretty boring. Want a coffee? You look like you need it.”

“That bad, huh?” Patrick chuckled as he looked through the fruit displays by the window “sure. Thanks, man,”

“Uh huh. How was church?”

“Different, nice to see people, though. Shame there’s not a non-religious alternative,” Patrick said nervously as he picked up an orange to take for lunch.

“Of church?”

Patrick laughed “I mean of the potluck part. Shame that you couldn’t be there without it…”

Joe smiled and leaned over the counter, handing Patrick a coffee cup “aw, if you wanted to see me you should have just asked.”

“Don’t make it like that, I just think it’s a shame there isn’t a version you can comfortably be at,” Patrick rolled his eyes as he put cash on the counter.

“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll call next time the guys are getting together, since you’re so obsessed with me?”

Patrick chuckled as he reached over the counter to reach over the counter for a pen before writing his number on the back of Joe’s hand “believe whatever you want, but you’re not my type,”

“Hey,” Joe laughed, “you’re going to start rumors doing that,” he looked at the ink on his hand for a moment. “You’re not my type either, for your information,” he called after Patrick.

Patrick waved as he walked backwards through the door to get back to his car “uh huh. See you around, Joe,”

“I’m serious! You’re not!” Joe laughed as the door swung closed behind Patrick.

  
  


_ Unknown number: whose number is this? _

Patrick furrowed his brows as he looked at his phone screen. He had missed the text while he was teaching but it was his lunch break now. He opened the message and typed out a cautious reply.

_ You’re the one texting me. Who are you? _

He wasn’t sure why he expected an immediate reply where the text had come in several hours ago. He waited a few minutes before setting his phone down and started grading the papers on his desk. He kept the phone screen up just in case he got a reply, though. The reply that he was waiting for only came once Patrick was packing his bag at the end of the school day. He set his bag back down on his desk to read the message his mystery texter had sent.

_ Unknown number: as Joe’s best friend it’s my job to make sure I approve of the people he’s talking with. He’s been hiding his hand all day so I can only assume you’re rather unfavourable. _

Patrick chuckled and put one hand over his smile. Either Andy or Pete then, and he had a hunch that it wasn’t Andy.

_ Hi Pete. _

He slipped his phone back into his pocket. He’d continue this conversation once he got home instead of smiling at his phone like an idiot in the plain view of everyone else staying late at the school. He couldn’t help but smile like an idiot around Pete and that seemed to work over text as well. Once he made the short drive back home he put his things down a little too quickly before sitting down on the couch to check his phone for a reply. He smiled when a new message notification was waiting for him on his lockscreen.

_ Unknown number: How’d you guess? _

He added Pete’s number into his phone while he thought of a reply that would hopefully be both entertaining and interesting enough to keep Pete talking.

_ Just a hunch. You’re pretty unique. _

_ Pete: don’t tell me you’re sweet on both of us, mystery girl _

Patrick had to laugh at that. He wondered if Pete was being serious or teasing him back.

_ Do you want me to be? _

The least he could do would be tease Pete back, he definitely deserved it.

_ Pete: depends on who I’m talking to. Maybe. _

Patrick swallowed. Right. Time to stop that.

_ Sorry to disappoint but it’s Patrick. I gave Joe my number this morning in case you guys invited me to something else. _

Patrick wasn’t sure what response he expected. He figured Pete wouldn’t care, might fake annoyance at the most, but he really didn’t expect the message that popped up after another moment.

_ Pete: not disappointed at all. You’re a very pleasant surprise. _

_ You sure? You seemed pretty interested. _

_ Pete: I’m even more interested now if I’m being honest _

He’s joking, Patrick breathed to himself. He doesn’t mean that. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up over a stupid joke.

_ I’m sure. Besides prying into Joe’s personal life, what are you doing? _

_ Pete: well now that you’ve changed the subject, nothing _

Patrick furrowed his brow for a moment before he caught on and rolled his eyes, glad no one was there to see his blush.

_ Sorry to disappoint again _

_ Pete: well that about you? _

_ Trying not to gag at that idea _

_ Pete: gagging on it already? And I was trying to be so gentle _

Patrick inhaled sharply and his leg started bouncing on its own accord. Right. He set his phone down on the coffee table and stood up. That was way too much for his touch-starved brain to handle. He was joking, he reminded himself. That didn’t clear the images from his head, though. He bounced on his heels for a second and shook his hands, letting himself calm down, before he picked his phone back up.

_ Pete: too far? My bad. I’m just messing with you. _

_ You’re impossible. _

_ Pete: let me make it up to you? _

_ How do you plan to do that? _

_ Pete: come on a drive with me tonight? _

Patrick sighed. It was a tempting thought.

_ It’s a school night. I need to be up early. _

_ Pete: I’ll have him home by 10, Mr. Stump, scout’s honor _

_ I don’t think you were ever a boy scout. Not enough respect for those around you. _

_ Pete: guilty as charged. Is that a yes? _

Patrick shook his head, smiling as he texted back.

_ It’s a yes. Give me a few hours to do some grading. _

_ Pete: I’ll pick you up at 7 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy it! I say that every chapter don't I? Anyway, I love reading comments so please don't hesitate to let me know what you're thinking of this fic either in the comments or on my tumblr (lupinwritings). Thanks for reading! See you next week!


	9. Chapter 9

Patrick hoped that it wasn’t too obvious how he’d been waiting for Pete to get there since 6:45 when he walked out as soon as he heard Pete’s truck pull into the driveway.

“Hey, hop in,” Pete said, leaning over to open the passenger side of the truck.

Patrick really hoped he didn’t look as short as he felt when he had to step up into Pete’s lifted truck. “Are you kidnapping me?”

Pete chuckled and eyed Patrick warmly “depends, are you coming willingly?”

“I don’t even know where we’re going!” Patrick laughed as he put his seatbelt on.

“That’s the surprise. I won’t force you, though, you can get back out right now if you want.”

Patrick sighed and rolled his eyes “I’m going to be irresponsible and trust you just this one time,”

“Just this time?” Pete switched which hand he had on the steering wheel and for a moment Patrick thought he was going to put his free hand on Patrick’s leg but he only turned to look out the back window while he reversed out of Patrick’s driveway. “I’m hurt. Hopefully I’m not blowing my one shot then.”

“You’d better not. You won’t get another.”

“Huh. Got it,” Pete went silent for a minute as they drove before he cleared his throat “so you and Joe…”

Patrick shifted to face Pete, tucking one leg under himself “what about him?”

Pete shrugged “are you guys really just friends or…?”

“We’re just friends.”

“You sure?” Pete asked, lips curling into a smirk.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re blushing.”

What could Patrick say to that? Oh no I’m not blushing because I’m into him I’m blushing because you’re so goddamn attractive and looking at me like that? Not exactly subtle. “Am not,”

“Uh huh. If he gets all pissy because I’m taking you out tonight it’s on you because you’re not telling me.”

“Just friends, Pete.”

Pete took his hands off the wheel for a moment in surrender “got it. My apologies. One more thing before I drop it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes. Tell me to stop and I won’t say anything else.”

Patrick sighed and leaned back against the door “go ahead,”

“If you were dating Joe - or anyone for that matter - people wouldn’t really care,”

“I thought everyone knew everyone’s business?”

Pete laughed, his skin gold in the rays from the setting sun. His laugh was also golden, though Patrick wasn’t sure what that meant, he knew it was true. “You catch on quick, kid, but not like that. People would know they just - people aren’t as bothered by it as you’d think. If you were dating a man, I mean,”

Patrick swallowed “what makes you think that I like men?”

“Pride flag in your car. I was kinda sad when I saw you took it off your dash after you moved in,” Pete admitted.

Patrick had peeled the sticker off his dash the morning he’d started teaching. It hadn’t felt safe to keep it there. Maybe he was wrong. “Oh. I didn’t know you’d seen it,”

“Didn’t seem like something I needed to bring up,”

“Why do you care if I took it off?”

“It’s just kind of sad. Seems like some sort of metaphor, though it’s a bit on the nose.”

Patrick chuckled “I put it on my bookshelf, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does. Sorry if I overstepped.”

“It’s okay,” Patrick glanced out the window. He didn’t even know where they were anymore. “It’s kind of nice to talk about,”

“Were you out back home?”

“In Chicago?” Patrick was shocked by how when Pete said ‘home’ he didn’t think of his apartment in the city anymore “yeah. I mean, as much as I could be. It’s not the same in a city, there’s always going to be way more people who don’t know you than people who do so - just because there’s so many m-”

Pete subtly cut him off by patting his knee “I know, I remember. I was just curious about with people you were close with.”

“I was. A lot of people figured it out, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Pete laughed and moved his hand back to the center console.

“I had… a lot of Bowie posters.”

Pete laughed again but tried to hide it behind his hand, Patrick wished he wouldn’t, he liked seeing him smile. “So,” Patrick continued “if you’re done asking invasive questions about me, I have one for you,”

Pete straightened up in his seat a bit “alright, seems fair,”

Patrick hadn’t expected that to work “why don’t you talk about going to college?”

Pete sighed “why did I know you were going to ask that? I guess…” He trailed off before rubbing the back of his neck “ashamed I came back. You’re supposed to go off to college and leave the nest of whatever but here I am back in the same house I grew up in. You know?”

Patrick frowned and nodded “I can see that being hard. Do you want to stay?”

“In Winchester? I don’t know. I think so. Someone needs to look after things.”

“What did you study?”

“Another question, huh? You’re gonna have to give me another one next to keep this fair. Sure you still want that?”

“Answer the question first,” Patrick chuckled, determined.

“Alright then. Creative writing. I was going to do agricultural sciences but I got a scholarship for their writing program off my application.”

“Really?” Patrick asked, leaning closer without noticing he’d done so “what do you write?”

Pete chuckled and shook his head “uh uh, my turn. Were you actually upset with what I said earlier?”

“No, it was pretty funny,” Patrick admitted, “it was sweet of you to apologise, though.”

“I’m glad. I’d really feel awful if I’d freaked you out. I’m so used to joking around with Joe and Andy like that I guess I forgot to make sure you’re okay with it too. Dick move.”

Patrick decided not to bring up what else he’d be okay with “I’ve used gay hookup apps I can promise you I’ve heard everything. Now, what do you write?”

“Poetry. And no - before you ask,” he said when Patrick opened his mouth “you can not read it. Not the stuff I haven’t published at least.”

“I was just going to say that was really cool,” Patrick lied “especially that you have books. I won’t buy one if you don’t want, though,”

“You won’t buy one, but if you want a copy I’ll get you one, though, just don’t… they’re pretty personal so, you know,”

Patrick nodded “I get it. Thank you for telling me, and for the offer.” He looked out the window. There was just enough light left for him to tell they were on a dirt road now “hey Pete? Where are we going?”

“Honestly, Patrick, you’re terrible at this game. It’s my turn to ask you,”

Patrick scoffed and rolled his eyes “fine. Go.”

“Don’t get all pissy about it now. You started it. Will you sing for me? I bet you’re good.”

“No.” Patrick said simply “my turn?”

To Patrick’s surprise, Pete just shrugged and let him ask where they were going again “not much farther. Just a field where no one ever drives past and you can see the stars.”

“There are a lot of fields. What makes this one special?”

“Jesus Christ, Patrick, it’s my fucking turn,” Pete said harshly before he broke into a laugh “kidding. Sorry. Just that it’s my spot. I like this one.”

“Oh god you’re taking me to your spot, that’s never good,” Patrick laughed, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“Oh relax,” Pete chuckled “I’m not that type of guy,”

“The kind that murders people in the middle of nowhere or the type that takes everyone to the same spot to sleep with them? Because those are the types who have a special spot in the middle of nowhere,” Patrick teased.

“What happened to trusting me?”

“If I didn’t trust you I would have jumped out by now. You’re not going that fast, I could make it.”

“Oh yeah? You want to speed things up?”

And if that line didn’t get Patrick’s heart racing “I’m jumping out right now if you do,”

Pete glanced at him and winked before stepping on the gas. Patrick was pretty sure he was going to die at that moment because a) they were suddenly going at a speed that was very far from safe for a poorly lit, winding road and b) Pete had just winked at him. “You’re an asshole!” Patrick yelled over the sound of the wind rushing past the windows. The air tasted like dust and almost made Patrick cough when he inhaled.

Pete pretended not to hear him for a moment before easing off the accelerator, laughing when he looked over at Patrick “what was that, ‘Trick? Couldn’t hear ya,”

Patrick reached up to try and fix his wind-swept hair as he caught his breath from laughing “I said you’re an-” he stopped when Pete turned off the road and into what Patrick was pretty sure was a corn field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was SO much fun to write so I really hope you like it! Thank you for all the comments you've been leaving, they seriously make me so happy even if its things that have been said before, I just love hearing what you're thinking (even if you're just thinking keysmashing or screaming, I feel that). As always, feel free to reach out to me on tumblr (lupinwritings) with your thoughts or just for more fandom related and behind-the-scenes stuff. I hope you're all having a good week! Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected the field Pete was talking about was like… actually just that “are we here?”

“Yeah,” Pete chuckled once they were far enough into the field that the tall stalks of corn hid the truck from anyone who happened to drive past “wanna lay in the back for a bit more room?”

Patrick rolled his eyes “you really do this a lot huh?”

“Not anymore,” Pete said honestly before turning the lights off and the radio up. Patrick followed him out and just as he was about to pull himself up into the bed of the truck, he felt a hand on his hip “need a hand?”

“That line worked for you before?” Patrick teased, turning around to look at Pete. If Pete took one more step forward he’d have Patrick pressed against the truck and… now that was a thought.

“Not yet but I remain hopeful,” instead of pushing Patrick back against the metal behind him, Pete easily pulled himself up into the bed before extending a hand to Patrick.

“You’re showing off. Just open the hatch like a normal person,”

“Where’s the fun in that? C’mon, ‘Trick, humor me.”

Patrick rolled his eyes but took Pete’s hand anyway and let him pull him up alongside him “just this once, okay? No more showing off from you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Pete said, leaning back onto a pile of pillows and blankets, had Patrick really not noticed that before? He hadn’t really looked at the bed of the truck at all before he’d gotten up there. Instead of questioning it he just scoffed and settled down next to Pete. It was more comfortable than he’d expected.

“Now what?” Patrick asked, looking up at the stars which were just beginning to appear.

“Now we look at stars and you stop acting like a brat,” Pete teased.

Patrick was really begging for Pete to stop saying things like that when they were this close “when do you murder me?”

“Not quite yet. I have a ritual first.”

“Ooh, and what will you do with my body?”

“That’s a whole different conversation,”

Patrick knew better than to let that conversation get any further so he just rolled onto his side to punch Pete in the arm “asshole, that’s how you ended up here anyway, remember?”

“Then why on earth would I stop?”

“Stop it,” he said in a voice that he hoped sounded somewhere between stern and still joking.

“Sorry,” Pete said, one arm wrapping around Patrick’s shoulders so casually that he might not have noticed if he wasn’t already so on edge.

“It’s okay, I don’t really mind all that much,” Patrick said, subtly wiggling closer to Pete. It was hot out, even more so when he was pressed up against Pete’s body but Patrick didn’t mind.

“Still, I’d rather do things that you don’t mind at all,”

Patrick hesitated for a moment “I don’t mind this,” he eventually said, resting his head on Pete’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I don’t mind this either,” Pete chuckled and moved his hand to Patrick’s shoulder “you’re pretty cute, you know that?”

“Don’t patronize me,”

“Am I not allowed to think you’re cute?”

“Not like that,” Patrick said, looking up at him. This was what Patrick wanted. He wanted Pete, but not like this. He didn’t want to be Pete’s friend who he cuddled with when he was lonely but never anything more. Pete was enjoying this in the same way that people enjoy action movies, it’s fun to see how the plot’s play out and what the characters do because they’re a distraction but you don’t actually want those movies to be your life. Patrick wanted this, though, he wanted this even once the plot stopped being excited because having Pete would be enough, he didn’t need all the extra stuff.

“How then?” Pete said, cutting through Patrick’s thoughts.

“Just not like that, that’s all,”

“You’re an enigma.”

“Better men than you have tried to understand me before,” Patrick teased, rolling onto his back again.

Pete’s arm stayed around Patrick’s shoulders “what makes those men ‘better’?”

“They knew when they were beat, you on the other hand…”

“I like to think of myself as persistent, but you say the word and I’m done. I’ll take you back home right now if you want.”

“Persistent seems like the appropriate word for you. Among others.”

“Such as? I’d like a list.”

“Loud, short, annoying-”

Pete smacked Patrick’s shoulder gently “right, I get it, you get off on hurting people or something?”

“A sadist? I wouldn’t describe myself as one. Just an honest person,”

“Want to tell me what you do get off on then?”

Patrick was fairly certain he was joking but he decided it was better to just not respond at all “you ever been out here for a meteor shower?”

“Hm? Um, yeah, a few times,” Pete responded after a second of confusion “why?”

“Just curious. Seems like it’d be pretty. It’s pretty as is but I was just thinking, if this was a movie this would be the point where one of us would point out a shooting star.”

“What happens after that in this movie?”

Patrick chuckled “depends on the genre.”

“Well what genre of movie are we in? Considering how you wouldn’t answer my last question I can rule out a few,”

“I thought you’d already said you were planning on brutally murdering me, wouldn’t it be a horror movie then?”

“Not necessarily, and even then we’d need to know the subgenre. Is it a slasher, a film noir, a thriller, snuff film, monster movie, spy, gothic-”

“Shut the fuck up, Pete,” Patrick laughed, “I think we’d be some cheesy Lifetime or Hallmark movie.”

“I love those movies, don’t tell anyone,”

Patrick leaned his head into Pete’s shoulder and smiled “of course not. Since you’re the expert then, how’s our movie end?”

“You probably get a call from your old job who offers to pay you double if you come back and you have to choose between the life you always wanted and me,”

“Tearjerker then, huh? Which do I pick?”

“Depends on if it’s Hallmark or Lifetime. Lifetime, you go back to the city but promise to write, you stop after a few months though and move on while I spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been. Hallmark and you pick me and realize this was the life you wanted after all and that the city never really made you happy.”

“Sounds about right,”

“Which one?”

“Dunno yet, but my boss would have to triple my salary for me to move back, if that makes you feel better.”

“You like it here that much?”

“Well, I barely got paid at all in Chicago, but yeah, I do like it here.”

“I’m glad. I’d miss you if you left.”

“I’d miss you too, even though you’re a sadist.”

Patrick laughed “am not,”

“Masochist then? Trying to get me to be mean to you in return?”

“You are mean to me but it still doesn’t do anything for me,”

“I think I’m right.”

“You always do,” Patrick glanced at the spot where the sun had set earlier that night “you ever spend the night out here?”

“You getting ideas? It’s been known to happen once or twice.”

“Just thought it could be kind of fun when I don’t have work in the morning,”

“You’ve got to be careful you’re gone by 4, though, otherwise you’ll get an earful from the farmer, which would be especially awkward since I think he has a son in your class,”

Patrick laughed “oh god, I’m moving back to the city if that happens,”

“You asking me to bring you back out here sometime?”

“Maybe I was going to ask someone to come out here with me,”

“Oh yeah?” Pete teased, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his elbow “who?”

“None of your business,”

Pete pushed his hair out of his face and Patrick was briefly upset that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to do it for him “it is if you’re using my spot,”

“Oh right, your murder spot,”

Pete grinned and nodded “among other things,”

“Like what?”

“None of your business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all really loved the last chapter so I hope you like this one just as much. It was really fun to write. Also, you guys really went above and beyond with the comments last chapter which was so sweet and amazing so thank you to every person who left a comment. It's been a pretty stressful week for me with moving back to college but I'm hoping to stick with still posting every Friday. If you want to leave a comment (even if it's been said before), that would be awesome, I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you're thinking. See you next week!


	11. Chapter 11

Not even the steady stream of coffee that Patrick kept available on his desk could hide how worn out Patrick was - not in his own perception at least. His entire body felt sluggish and his mind went blank a few too many times throughout his classes, he was sure at least some of his students caught on. He knew it was a bad idea to let Pete keep him out that long but something about last night… he hadn’t exactly been doing a good job about reminding Pete to take him home. The ibuprofen he’d swallowed that morning also wasn’t doing enough to alleviate the places where his body was protesting to laying in the back of a metal pickup truck for hours.

If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, which Patrick was grateful for. He didn’t know what he would have said in reply, something unconvincing and vague probably. When Patrick had somehow made it through the day without passing out at his desk, he found himself sitting in his car with his phone open to the last few messages between him and Pete. He’d meant to text Pete again but he was distracted by reliving those memories for a moment.

_ Pete: thanks for coming tonight _

_ Thanks for bringing me. I had fun _

_ Pete: me too. Enough fun that you’d be willing to trust me another time? _

_ One more time couldn’t hurt I guess _

_ Pete: that’s what I like to hear _

_ You have strange standards _

_ Pete: I take what I can get _

_Don't you have work to do?_

_Pete: asshole. Go grade some papers or something. You're distracting me._

_You texted me first_

Pete left him on read after that. Patrick leaned his head back and sighed, looking up at the roof of his car. It hurt knowing that none of this was real, it only made him want the real thing more. Before last night, he’d been lonely and touch-starved but really anyone would have done, now Patrick wouldn’t be able to settle for anyone else but Pete. It wasn’t fair that Pete got to do this to him, got to make him so flustered and fall so hard so quickly. He wasn’t in love with Pete, even his over-dramatic and hopeless-romantic brain knew that, but he was certainly infatuated. He’d been missing the feeling of Pete’s hands on him ever since Pete had taken his hand off Patrick’s knee to let him go inside. It was like Pete’s presence had made a home somewhere in his brain, leaving Patrick feeling empty without him. He hated how dependent that sounded and there was no way he’d ever tell Pete that because his ego was plenty big enough.

He typed out a new message and sent it before he could overthink it.

_ No more missing curfew. I think I’m dying _

He didn’t get a reply for another hour, giving him time to get home and start writing student assessments, he almost had enough time to stop thinking about Pete’s reply, almost. His phone screen lighting up quickly brought Patrick’s full attention back to Pete, as if it had strayed that far anyway.

_ Pete: Tired? _

_ Tired, sore, did I mention tired? _

_ Pete: next time I’ll make sure to get you home extra early. I do recall you not complaining about me keeping you out late, though. Something about “one late night won’t kill me, we can stay a bit longer if you want” _

_ I never said that _ Patrick lied, he knew Pete would see right through it, that wasn’t the point.

_ Pete: huh, sorry for holding you against your will then. Did I also make up when you said you wanted to see me again soon? _

_ Yes. _

_ Pete: well then this is going to be awkward _

Patrick jumped when there was a knock on his door. Patrick had to take a second to try and calm his breathing from the shock before he got up and went to open the door. No surprises, Pete was outside wearing his usual toothy grin along with a pair of faded and scuffed overalls and sweat-soaked t-shirt. “I was in the area,”

Patrick laughed and rolled his eyes “you’re always in the area, you live down the street, what do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Your attention,”

Patrick stepped aside to Pete could come inside “well, you have it, now what?”

“Dunno, didn’t think I’d make it this far after you said you didn’t want to see me,”

“I didn’t-” Patrick started before realizing that technically he had said that less than a minute ago “I didn’t mean that,”

“So you admit you’re a liar?”

Patrick shook his head and chuckled “I admit that texting as a medium does not sufficiently convey tone of voice, because I was joking.” Patrick sat down on the couch “so what are you planning to do now that you’re here?”

“Mainly just say hi,” Pete admitted, still standing “I’m pretty gross right now and I have to get back to work soon but I missed you,”

“You’re certainly a charmer, aren’t you?” Patrick teased “let me get you a drink and we can go sit outside,”

“Thanks, that’d be great. I’m serious, though,”

“Uh huh,” Patrick mumbled as he grabbed two cans of coke out of the fridge before taking Pete’s hand and leading him out to the front porch “you flatter everyone like this?”

Pete shook his head and joined Patrick on the front porch swing “just you,” Patrick noted that there was definitely room for them to have space between then but Pete was still pressed up against Patrick “I can’t stop thinking about you,”

“I do have a winning personality,”

Pete laughed and one hand came to rest on the outside of Patrick’s thigh, subtly pulling Patrick’s legs onto Pete’s lap “you certainly do, even though you’re mean,”

“Maybe you’re the masochist,”

“Either way you’re still a sadist,”

“Only when it’s you,”

“That doesn’t sound like a healthy dynamic, maybe you should work on that,”

Patrick chuckled and leaned into Pete “I’ll add it to my list of longtime goals,”

Pete’s hand was now absently running along the outside seam of Patrick’s jeans “I mean it, though, I can’t stop thinking about you, did you do something to me? Some sort of obsession potion or spell or something?”

“Oh did I forget to mention that? That was the other part of me agreeing to go with you last night, you now live to serve me,” Patrick teased, hoping that Pete didn’t notice when his breathing caught as Pete squeezed his thigh.

“Doesn’t sound too bad. What’s my first command?”

Patrick shrugged and leaned his head on Pete’s shoulder “right now this is pretty good. I enjoy the company.”

“Me too, even if it comes at the price of my soul and free-will,”

Patrick rolled his eyes and chuckled into Pete’s shoulder “when do you actually need to get back to work? I don’t want to keep you if you have stuff to do,”

Pete brought his hand that wasn’t driving Patrick crazy rubbing his thigh up to the back of Patrick’s head to stroke through his hair. Patrick’s eyes closed at that, instantly soothed by the feelings of Pete stroking and carding through his hair. Pete sighed “I’ve got a few more minutes, how’s work going?”

Patrick hummed appreciatively “it’s alright, things are starting to pick up now. What about you?”

“Same old, nothing exciting,”

Patrick lifted his head to look at Pete “I don’t even know what you do for work - like, I know you have a farm but like… how does that work?”

Pete chuckled “maybe you should come out with me sometime, but I’m afraid it’s not all that exciting. Lot of driving and hauling around hay bales. You might like the animals, though,”

Patrick smiled “you have animals?”

“Yeah, nothing too fancy but we’ve got a chicken coop and a few ducks that moved into the pond, two pigs, couple a’ cows and horses too, and the goats but they’re assholes”

Patrick’s jaw dropped “holy smokes, really?”

“You are so cute like that,” Pete teased “yeah,”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pig before, or a cow up close. How did you not tell me this earlier?”

“You want to come over sometime then?”

Patrick nodded probably too quickly “I’d really like that,”

“I think it’s time for you to pick where we go next time, though,”

Patrick sighed and batted Pete’s arm gently before letting his hand settle there “as if I know anything to do around here,”

“Then I guess you’ll have to do some research, won’t you?”

“It’ll be your fault if it’s no fun,”

“I’m sure we’ll find something to do,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff more fluff more fluff!
> 
> We've hit the part of the fic where all I write is fluff, except they aren't even together this time so enjoy some underlying angst. Thank you for reading! Leave me a comment or reach out to me on tumblr (lupinwritings), it keeps me motivated! See you next week!


	12. Chapter 12

It was becoming very clear to Patrick that Pete was an increasing problem for his productivity. He’d always been able to lose himself in music and nothing had changed there, looking over pages or sheet music or audio files still captivated his mind until he succumbed to sleep or hunger, as did the few times that week when he found time to play anything himself, but when it came to just about anything else… paperwork and grading were an even greater struggle than usual when his mind kept wandering to Pete in one way or another. He should text him, he thought as he set the bag of groceries down on the counter. No, it was too early, he’d wait a few more days. What would he even say anyway? Hey, want to go on a friend date now? Patrick also still didn’t have any ideas on what they could do. He didn’t know too much about what to do around town, it didn’t seem like there was much to do. The bowling alley would probably be lame and overdone, Pete had already taken him on a drive… he should definitely text Pete. This time he got as far as opening his messages before he remembered his plan to not text Pete yet. He hated this. Maybe if he waited long enough Pete would just text him instead. Except if he waited too long maybe Pete would text him to ask why he was ignoring him, or worse not text him and just cut contact all together? He was overthinking again. 

Maybe he could ask Joe what a good friend-date idea would be. How would he explain that, though? Hi, Joe, I’m going to take your friend out but just as a friend except I want to convince him that we should be more than friends though our friend-date but not actually tell him so what’s something I could do that is not stupid and also not too romantic as to scare him off but also romantic enough to make him fall in love with me, any ideas? Patrick didn’t even understand what he was thinking, trying to explain it to anyone else without sounding unhinged was out of the question. Maybe he should just ask Pete for ideas. Knowing Pete, that would be a terrible idea that ended with Pete harassing him about it and not even helping.

Patrick shook his head and sighed, finally starting to take the groceries out of the bags. Then it hit him. He pulled out his phone again, completely forgetting how he was planning on waiting to text Pete and typed out a message.

_ How are your cooking skills? _

He realized after he hit send that he probably should have taken some time to think things through but he was committed now. No taking it back now that the delivered symbol showed up under the message. As Patrick was thinking that, the delivered symbol was replaced by the read symbol and then the three dots symboling that Pete was typing. That was fast.

_ Pete: why do you ask? _

_ I had an idea _

_ Pete: keep your secrets then. It’s alright, sadly there are far better potential housewives around though if that’s what you’re looking for _

Patrick chuckled and sat down on the couch, forgetting about his previous task of putting the groceries away.

_ Not quite. Do you want to come over and teach me some recipes? I trust you a lot more than the internet. _

_ Pete: trusting me with anything is terrible idea, but if this is your way of asking me to come over for dinner I’m happy to help _

_ Great, Friday night? I don’t want to have to kick you out so that I can grade _

_ Pete: I’ll be there. Want me to bring ingredients? _

_ Just let me know how much it costs and I’ll pay you back _

_ Pete: I will do no such thing and neither will you. You’ll find a way to make it up to me. _

Patrick clenched his jaw as he typed his next reply.

_ Why did I have a feeling you’d say something like that? _

_ Pete: I guess I’m getting predictable, I’ll have to do something to throw you off _

_ Do your worst _

_ Pete: I intend to _

This conversation was meant to help Patrick get some closure and focus more on what he actually had to do that week, but he knew now that it was going to do the complete opposite. He hadn’t felt this giddy about seeing someone in… well, he just hadn’t felt this giddy about anyone before. He hadn’t ever had the stereotypical teen relationship marked with infatuation. He’d been a little busy being horribly self conscious and socially awkward. Not to say he was the picture of confidence now but… things were better. Not having had anything like this before probably aided in Patrick’s distracted tendencies that week. He was on edge and jumpy (probably more from the caffeine he’d been turning to after he’d been up late trying to get anything done) all week until Friday night finally came and he heard a knock on the front door.

“Hey,” Patrick said as he opened the door “you can set stuff down over on the table, can I get you something to drink?”

Pete smiled as he stepped past Patrick “hey there, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Water alright? I have wine too if you’d rather,”

Pete chuckled and set a cloth bag down “water is fine, unless you’re trying to get me drunk,”

Pete shook his head and crossed to the fridge to take out a water pitcher “I’m not, don’t worry,”

“I feel like you’re more of a lightweight than I am,” Pete said, leaning against the table.

Patrick rolled his eyes as he poured two glasses of water, glad that his back was to Pete so he couldn’t see him smiling “oh no you don’t, we’re not having this argument,”

“So you deny it?”

Patrick handed Pete the glass and scoffed “now you’re trying to get me drunk,”

“I’m ashamed that you think that lowly of me,” Pete teased “now do you want food or not?”

“It’s my house, shouldn’t I be the one threatening you?”

Pete reached over and pinched Patrick’s chin between the pad of his thumb and his knuckles, causing Patrick to jump back and push his hand away. “You’re a terrible host,” Pete observed, grinning.

“And you’re a horrible guest. Does that make us even?” Patrick hesitantly stepped forward again, simultaneously drawn to Pete and also not wanting to be within arms reach of him.

“Perfectly. Now, go preheat your oven for me while I get myself together over here.”

  
  


Two hours later Patrick was covered in flour, cornmeal, and the lasting feeling of Pete’s hands on him from when he needed guiding with something. They ate at Patrick’s dining table, Pete for once shutting up and listening to Patrick talk about cooking with his own family. He’d grown up in a big family and was the only one to move out of the city, he knew he was missing a lot being so far away.

“Not that it’s the same,” Pete said between bites of food “but you’ve got a family here too, y’know?”

“I know, I’ve never had people who cared about me just because I… I don’t know, I haven’t really done anything to deserve it,” Patrick sighed.

“You’re here, that’s enough. And you’re a pretty great music teacher from what I’ve heard,”

“Are you gossiping about me?”

“Be happy it’s something good, you could have a way worse rumor about you,” Pete smiled.

“Trust me,” Patrick leaned back in his chair “I know,”

“I didn’t mean like that,” Pete’s eyes softened, the wrinkles at their corners disappearing as he frowned.

“Sorry, I believe you about stuff it’s just…”

“I get it,” Pete shrugged “it’s tough coming out, and you don’t owe it to share more with anyone than you’re comfortable with, but you don’t deserve to spent the rest of your life hiding in a closet,”

Pete was right, Patrick couldn’t deny that, so he just nodded, hoping that if he stared at the tablecloth for long enough, the conversation would magically change itself. It seemed luck was on his side, though, as Pete cleared his throat and stood “you done with that?” He asked, gesturing at Patrick’s empty plate.

“Oh, yeah, thank you,” he stuttered, standing up as Pete took his dishes.

“Don’t sweat it. Why dontcha get some bowls out and serve the cobbler while I rinse these off? We can sit outside and watch the sunset if you want.”

Patrick didn’t protest and just followed Pete’s instructions “why are you so nice to me?”

“You’re going to need to stop asking questions like that one day and just accept that people might like you,”

Patrick laughed, partially because it was funny and partially because it was a ridiculously simple answer “what do you get out of it, though?”

Pete set the dishes up to dry and toweled off his hands, leaning back against the counter “you’re so jaded, is everyone from Chicago like that or is that a Patrick-exclusive trait?”

Patrick mirrored Pete’s pose and shrugged “no such thing as a free lunch,”

“I like spending time with you, and I’m going to keep doing it until you get tired of me or you understand that, okay?”

Patrick sighed and ran his fingers through his hair nervously “then what happens?”

“Depends, are you going to get tired of me or accept that I just want to spend time with you?” Pete asked.

“Hypothetically, let’s say the latter.”

“Then we just act like normal people who don’t need some sort of quid pro quo to spend time together.”

“It’s not like I’ve never hung out with people,” Patrick said defensively.

Pete raised an eyebrow “oh? I didn’t say you hadn’t.”

“You’re implying it.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just meant that…” Pete paused, thinking “I’m sorry if something in your past has made you think relationships have to involve people taking something from you.”

“You sound like my therapist,” Patrick scoffed.

“I’m just repeating what mine told me,” Pete offered, smiling “let’s go outside before it gets too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right I'm going to make this quick because I am very tired and need to sleep but THANK YOU FOR READING! Comments keep me motivated (even when I'm really busy with schoolwork like I have been this week) so please if you have anything you want to say, let me know! Hearing from you is what keeps me motivated to keep up with this fic and what makes it worth the effort to keep a schedule! See you all next week!


	13. Chapter 13

Patrick set their empty bowls on the ground below them before leaning back against Pete, lifting his feet up onto the arm of the porch swing. Pete didn’t say anything as he snaked one arm around Patrick’s shoulder and onto his chest, or when Patrick rested his hand on his wrist. “Thanks for coming over and all the help with dinner, you’re a good cook,”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Thank you for having me over.”

“I’m not surprised,” Patrick chuckled, watching the colours painted over the horizon grow deeper “I’m just commenting,”

Pete hummed before going silent for a moment “I brought you something,” he said, shifting out from behind Patrick before standing. 

It was uncomfortably warm and humid but somehow Patrick still missed feeling Pete next to him “should I be worried?”

Pete shrugged before disappearing back into the house. “Depends, maybe,” he replied unhelpfully before returning, a book in his hands.

Patrick bit his lip as he took it “oh wow,” he said, dumbfounded “I didn’t expect-” he looked over Pete’s name on the cover “are you sure?”

Pete shrugged again but the way his jaw was set let Patrick know he was clenching his teeth, he wasn’t quite as indifferent as he wanted Patrick to think. “It’s fine, if you were gonna read it anyway I’ll save you the 14.99.”

Patrick smiled and moved over to give Pete room to sit down again, though as soon as he did Patrick moved back over to lean against him “thank you,” he mumbled as Pete put his arm back around him “I’m excited to read it.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Pete said, eyes on the sunset instead of Patrick but his fingers were absently running up and down Patrick’s forearm “am glad you like it, though, judging from the cover at least,”

“I guess I’m not supposed to do that, huh?” Patrick laughed.

“I’ll let it go in this case, you didn’t do the same for me so,”

Patrick frowned “I did at first - judge you based on, you know. I’m sorry about that. I was scared that I was going to get - like - hate crimed.”

Pete snorted and then rolled his eyes “well, I’m glad you knocked that off, and I promise not to hate crime you.”

Patrick sat up and bit more and bit his cheeks to try and keep from laughing “this isn’t a joking matter, Pete, I’m serious. I’m sorry for the assumptions I made about you, I was so worried you would judge me for a part of myself that I did the same to you and that’s not any better.”

“You’re forgiven, you’ve got a lot to learn, though,”

“I’m a fast learner and you’re a good teacher,”

Pete rolled his eyes and ruffled Patrick’s hair “well, Mr. Stump, what do you want to know?”

Patrick rested his head on Pete’s forearm and looked up at him “anything,”

Pete closed his eyes and inhaled, his shoulders tensing as his free hand came up to rub his face “Jesus,” he said in a voice that was halfway between a breath and a laugh “not tonight. It’s getting late.”

“What?” Patrick asked, he enjoyed teasing Pete just to see him play along “I’m serious.”

“I know you are, sweetheart, that’s the problem,” Pete laughed, leaning over to kiss Patrick’s temple which made Patrick freeze and lose any upper hand he had “The boys and I are going for a fishing trip later, you want to come?”

Patrick considered it for a moment “I haven’t fished since I was a kid, but I’ll try,”

Pete grinned “glad to hear it. I’ll text you when we get a day worked out.”

“Thanks for letting me tag along,”

“Any time, everyone loves you,”

Patrick rolled his eyes “stop it…”

“I’m serious,” Pete nudged Patrick’s knee with his own “people like you.”

Patrick had a suspicion they wouldn’t if they knew more about him, but Pete, Andy, and Joe were proof he’d been wrong before “I’ve never been  _ liked _ before,” he said instead “I mean, I wouldn’t say I was disliked but I’ve always just been there, you know?”

“Mhm,” Pete nodded “there’s not enough happening for anyone to be a face in the crowd here, you’ve been here long enough to know that,”

Pete was right. He’d met just about everyone by now even if only briefly, and those he hadn’t, he’d heard about. When he’d first moved, he had hated that idea but he realized that now it was comforting. He knew what to expect from people most of the time, it felt safe. A month ago, the idea of Winchester feeling safer than Chicago would have seemed impossible but… he could see it now. He still got homesick and there were things he didn’t think he’d ever understand about Winchester but it was starting to feel like home, at least a second one. “How late are you staying?” He eventually asked, not because he wanted Pete to leave but because he didn’t want Pete feeling like he had to stay.

“Probably should get home soon, huh?”

“You can stay if you want, but I understand if you have stuff to do,”

Pete chuckled “well, as fun as a sleepover sounds, I probably shouldn’t unless you want me leaving at 4 to go to work,”

Patrick glanced at his watch and did the math in his head “Jesus, how sleep deprived are you? It’s not like you go to bed early.”

“I have a more stable sleep schedule when I don’t have anyone keeping me up,”

Patrick slapped Pete’s arm gently “please don’t let me keep you up,”

“I’ll survive a few late nights, don’t worry. I’ll let you know when I need to head home.”

“You’d better,” Patrick said, trying to hide a yawn by tucking his face into Pete’s shoulder. 

“You tired?” Pete asked, his hand sliding down from Patrick’s arm to his waist, Patrick had to wonder if it was intentional.

“Shut up,” Patrick chuckled.

Pete scoffed “it’s not an insult, I’m just asking.”

Patrick sighed “I guess so, if you  _ have _ to know,”

“You want me to let you get to bed?” Pete asked, fingers toying with the fabric of Patrick’s shirt.

“Not really,” Patrick admitted “but that’s probably a good idea,”

Pete chuckled and stood up carefully, bringing Patrick up alongside him “you gonna survive a night without me?”

Patrick laughed “don’t praise yourself too much. Question is will you survive without me?”

“Ouch,” Pete smiled as he walked inside to collect his things “will I see you Sunday?”

Patrick nodded “I guess you will. And whenever you invite me on your fishing trip.”

Pete smiled “I’ll see you then. Let me know what you think of it,” he added after a second, gesturing to the book Patrick was still holding “unless you hate it, in which case either lie or don’t say anything, my ego can only take so many hits,”

Patrick chuckled and followed Pete inside “will do, I’m sure it’s great, though I’ll admit I know nothing about poetry.”

“You don’t have to, though I could drop off some lecture notes and textbooks if you want to analyze them.”

“I figure I’ll just let you explain it to me,” Patrick smiled “now get going before I invite you to stay the night.”

“Goodnight, Patrick,”

“‘Night, Pete.”

He was so fucked.

  
  


“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” Joe commented humorously as Patrick walked into the store for his usual morning coffee, though Joe was right that the last few mornings Patrick had been absent due to the late nights either with Pete or catching back up on grading had taken a toll on his time management.

Patrick shook his head and yawned “you? Never. Just haven’t had the free time lately to stop in.”

“School year picking up already?” Joe asked, already starting the coffee maker without Patrick having to ask.

“I guess, yeah, and I’ve got parent-teacher conferences coming up soon, and I have no idea how to handle those-”

“You sure you want caffeine right now, buddy? You seem pretty on-edge.”

“No, I’m fine,” Patrick said, taking a deep breath “I’m fine, just need to get back into the swing of things. I’ve had some… complications come up and I need to figure out what I’m doing.”

“Well,” Joe said, concern still heavy on his voice “you can always let me know if you want someone to talk to. Are you still coming fishing with us later on? Some time off might do you some good.”

“Um, yeah, yeah I’ll be there,” Patrick said, putting cash on the counter “you’ve got a good point. I’ll see you around.”

“See you then. Take care of yourself,”

“You too,” Patrick said before going back to his car. He really needed to get himself under control. The question, though, was how? Things with Pete were stressing him out but also what kept him sane and gave him something to look forward to. He wasn’t about to cut that out of his life but he also really needed some normalcy. He wasn’t sure that was possible with Pete. He’d figure it out. For now, he needed to forget about it, chug a coffee, and get into his classroom before he was late to his own class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! If you have any thoughts about stuff, feel free to leave me a comment because they keep me motivated and bring me so so so much joy! I love reading them throughout the week to help me find the motivation to write. The start of the semester has been kind of crazy for me but I'm still hoping to stay on top of my usual schedule. Again, thank you for reading! See you next week!


	14. Chapter 14

Patrick hadn’t gone fishing except for a few times as a kid when his grandfather had taken him out to the lake a few times. He was very quickly remembering why as he sat on the edge of the river, a pole awkwardly in his hands. Fishing itself was rather dull in his mind, he distinctly remembered his grandfather chiding him for talking or moving too much and scaring off the fish. It wasn’t an activity Patrick had felt drawn to after that.

While fishing itself may be a rather boring activity on its own, fishing with Andy, Joe, and Pete was a very different experience, however. The radio of Pete’s truck was cranked up as high as it could go so that they could hear from the riverbank but none of them were listening to the station which was playing country music mixed with the occasional gospel-country crossover. “You know what we should do?” Joe said, interrupting Pete and Andy’s conversation about the ethics of aquaculture. Patrick wouldn’t mind the topic switching to something he understood more so he glanced at Joe curiously. “When was the last time we went into the city? I want to go to a show or something.” He finished.

Pete shrugged “been a few months. Suppose we should make the most of our fading youth.”

Andy rolled his eyes “you’re so melodramatic. I’m in, though, for the city thing, not the being a drama queen with Pete part.”

Patrick smiled and shook his head, watching the river pass by. He wasn’t sure if he was included in this plan so he didn’t want to invite himself. “What about you, ‘Trick?” Joe after a second and Patrick realized that everyone was looking at him.

“Oh, um, sure, sounds good,” he replied awkwardly.

“What did you do for fun in Chicago?” Andy asked.

Patrick shifted and set his pole between his knees to give his hands a break “I don’t know,” he chuckled nervously “I didn’t do much. I just sort of went to class or work, I’m not very social.”

“Aw, that’s so sad,” Pete said and it would have been condescending if anyone else had said it but coming from Pete it didn’t sound as bad “wait, hold on,” he said, scrambling to his feet “I just thought of something,”

Patrick opened his mouth to say something else as Pete jogged back to the truck but Joe shook his head “he won’t tell you if you ask. Sometimes you find out later, usually you don’t. Just let him go.”

Patrick decided to take the advice “so what do you guys do when you go to the city? I wasn’t really a party person even when I was in Chicago.”

“We’re all pretty into music so we always try and find some decent live music,” Andy shrugged “depends on what’s going on that day, sometimes we just walk around and see what’s happening.”

“Especially since our musically talented friend won’t play for us,” Joe sighed “but yeah, just good to get away for a while. Ever been to a Bass Pro Shop?”

Patrick looked at him curiously “like the fishing shop? I think so, my dad used to get camping stuff there.”

“Those are always fun to walk around,” Pete said as he wandered back “I like to feed the fish.”

“I guess it depends on who you’re with, I’m fine with doing whatever you guys want to do.”

“Is that your way of saying anything would be fun with us?” Pete teased, sitting down beside Patrick.

“Don’t praise yourself, but I’m saying it sounds more fun than going with my father when I was in middle school was.”

“Maybe you liked middle school, maybe you were having a great time,” Pete offered.

Patrick laughed “I was not having a great time in middle school, actually, it was pretty terrible.”

“I don’t think that’s a good time for anyone. Like some people like high school but middle school?” Joe mused “universally hated.”

“I’m glad you didn’t know me in middle  _ or _ high school, I don’t think you’d want to associate with me if you had,” Patrick chuckled.

“We weren’t exactly popular, Patrick,” Andy laughed “have you ever tried being an atheist vegan in a rural high school?”

“Or a Jewish stoner - also not a good starting point.”

“I wore makeup and had the audacity to not be white,” Pete added “I think Patrick gets the idea, we weren’t well-liked.”

“I was a gay band kid in a Chicago public school,” Patrick said, almost not realizing he’d said it out loud.

“Don’t know why you think we wouldn’t have liked you then,” Pete laughed “I think you fit in pretty well with our band of losers.”

“Guess so.”

“You alright?” Pete said, a little quieter. Joe and Andy were close enough that they could probably still hear no matter how quiet they were.

Patrick nodded and lowered his own voice as well “just didn’t mean to say that.”

“You sure?” Pete said, his hand moving to the small of Patrick’s back. It was comforting, but Patrick really did feel okay. He trusted Joe and Andy.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Any time. Hate to see you freak out and disappear for a month,”

“That’s very specific,”

“That’s what I did.”

“What you did when…?”

“We can talk about it later,” Pete said, voice back to a more casual volume “these guys lived through it once, they don’t need to hear the story again.”

“When you fucked off to Atlanta all December?” Joe asked rhetorically “I seem to recall something about that.”

“Put a damper on Christmas that year, I have to admit,” Andy noted.

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Patrick asked, turning to Pete.

Pete laughed “I’m fine, have to find the humor in it after this many years, you know? It all worked out in the end.”

“I guess. I’ll try to give you guys a heads up before I disappear in the middle of the night at least.”

They were quiet for a moment before Pete stood up “anyone want to go for a walk? I need to stretch my legs.”

Joe met Patrick’s eyes as he stood and Joe seemed to receive some message that Patrick didn’t even mean to send because he put a hand on Andy’s shoulder and shook his head “I think we’ll stay here and keep an eye on the stuff. Holler if you need anything.”

Patrick smiled at him, before following Pete further along the river. “So, do you want to tell me that story?” He eventually asked, eyes on the ground so he didn’t trip.

“Do you want to hear it?” Pete asked, slowing to walk beside Patrick.

“Only if you want to tell it. It… sounds personal.”

Pete shrugged “maybe another time. It’s not exactly a fun story.”

“I’m sorry. Seems like you have a few of those.”

“I think everyone does.”

“That doesn’t invalidate yours,” Patrick said before deciding to change the topic “Joe said not to ask but… what was it that you thought of earlier that made you run off?”

Pete chuckled “well, I don’t usually talk about my most profound thoughts but, if you have to know, I figured out what genre of movie we are.”

“And what’s that?”

“This is your coming of age movie, except it’s not super played out because you didn’t move out of your small town into the city to find yourself, you found yourself when you left the city.”

“And what’s your role in this movie?”

“Narrator, obviously,” Pete smiled “I killed that summary, don’t you think?”

“I think you have a bigger role than that,”

“Comic relief and eye-candy, you’re right.”

Patrick just rolled his eyes. Joe was right, there was no point in trying to understand Pete. He was one of life’s many mysteries “if you say so.”

“What were you thinking for my role? I suppose you’d know best, unless we’re using dramatic irony, in which case the narrator would know more than you.”

Patrick absently kicked a stone into the river as they walked “sometimes I feel like you know this story better than I do, maybe you have a point,” he paused for a second and looked at Pete “there’s a flaw in your hypothesis, though,”

“Oh yeah?” Pete smiled, stopping to face Patrick “and what’s that?”

“You’ve overlooked the possibility that I’m not the main character.”

Pete opened his mouth but visibly faltered. Patrick finally had the upper hand again in their conversation. “Very well. If I’m the main character, what kind of movie is it?”

“Something dramatic and emotional but marketed as a comedy, the sort of movie everyone says they get but they really missed the whole point, something special for people who take the time to see it for what it is, though.”

Pete blinked at him for a second before nodded “huh. That was pretty cheesy even by my standards. Cute, though.”

“I don’t really know where that came from,” Patrick admitted, “it sounded better in my head, I think.”

Pete chuckled and put his arm around Patrick’s shoulder “I think I’m rubbing off on you. I like it when you talk, even when you don’t think you make sense, you should do that more.”

Patrick chuckled, it was harder to not stumble over his own feet or the ground below him this close to Pete but he wasn’t about to complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will they ever get together or are we just doing this forever? Do I know? Life is full of mysteries.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! As always, leave me a comment or reach out to me on tumblr (lupinwritings) because they make me smile and keep me motivated (and remind me to write the next chapter when I forget oops). See you next week!


	15. Chapter 15

Pros of inviting Pete in: he’d get more time with Pete.

Cons of inviting Pete in: he had work to do, Pete probably had work to do, Pete might say no and that would just be awkward, Pete might say yes even though he didn’t want to which would be even worse, he’d have even more time to say something stupid, Pete would have even more time to say something that made Patrick likely to embarrass himself, it was late, he probably needed a shower, he promised to get back to his emails by tomorrow -

“So I guess this is your stop?” Pete said, patting Patrick’s knee to wake him from his daze of overthinking, as he pulled into Patrick’s driveway.

“Shit, sorry, um - yeah.” Patrick stammered, balling one fist in frustration at himself.

“So…” Pete dragged out before chuckling.

“Do you - uh -” Patrick sighed and turned to Pete “zoned out for a moment. Do you want to come in?”

Pete dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed, turning to face Patrick as well “it’s late…”

Patrick felt his body tense. He should have expected that. “You don’t have to. I just figured I’d offer.” He got out of the truck probably a little too fast, eager to be alone so that he could yell into a pillow and pretend that had never happened.

“I’ll walk you up,” Pete said, getting out and circling around the hood “it’s nothing personal it’s just-”

“It’s fine, Pete,” Patrick said quickly, wanting to cut him off before he had anything else to overthink “I get it. Another time.”

Pete followed Patrick up to the door and nodded “another time. You, uh, do you have grading and stuff tomorrow?”

Patrick paused, keys hanging from one hand “are you asking me if I’m free tomorrow?”

“Are you?”

Patrick smiled and turned around, leaning against the door. Were it not for the motion-detector light on the porch, they’d be left with only the dim moonlight. For a second the light flickered and Patrick could only see Pete’s silhouette; when the old bulb came back on, Patrick could briefly see an indent below Pete’s mouth, hinting that he was biting the inside of his lip. Patrick found that particular nervous tick he’d seen several times on Pete very endearing. “I’ve got time,” Patrick said.

Pete went silent for a moment, eyes on Patrick before they shifted to look somewhere above his head. Patrick simultaneously missed the attention and was glad to not feel so exposed. “Fuck,” Pete eventually breathed, shaking his head.

“Are you okay?” Patrick asked, perplexed and a bit concerned.

“You’re damn hard to say goodbye to, you know that?”

Patrick could feel himself blushing and turned his face away to look at the expanse of trees lining the road. He let out a nervous laugh that was more of an exhale, unable to find an appropriate response. If he stared at the road for long enough maybe Pete would say something he could actually respond to, or perhaps something cataclysmic enough to distract him would occur, like an alien abduction or Godzilla appearing over the treetops. He waited for what felt like easily fifteen minutes but was probably only a few seconds before Pete finally cleared his throat “you don’t take compliments well,”

“How would you like me to respond to that?” Patrick asked, still not able to look at Pete.

Patrick could see Pete move somewhere between a shrug and shifting his weight “ideally or realistically?”

“You’re impossible,” Patrick shook his head and turned to open his door “are you coming in?”

“Do you want me to?”

Patrick sighed as he held the door open with one hand “I don’t want to keep you up…”

“I’ll be up either way,” Pete shrugged, feet still firmly planted on the porch. Perhaps he was a vampire - unable to come in until invited directly. Somehow that wouldn’t be all that surprising after everything that had happened over the past few months.

“Just come in?” Patrick eventually forced himself to say “I -” he stopped and tried to hide a smile “you’re hard to say goodbye to.”

Pete laughed and ruffled Patrick’s hair as he stepped into the living room “cute.”

Patrick caught Pete’s wrist and frowned, letting the door close behind him “I can still change my mind about this.”

“Will you?” Pete subtly twisted his wrist to squeeze Patrick’s hand before dropping it back to his side “seems like a pretty empty threat to me.”

Patrick opened his mouth but couldn’t find a retort so he just shook his head “you’re… so much.” He sat down on the couch, leaning against one armrest to face Pete as he sat down on the opposite side “in a good way, though, most of the time at least.”

Pete laughed and kicked off his boots “you’re sweet. Maybe that’s why you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

Patrick bit his tongue, looking at Pete for any hint as to what he meant by that. He didn’t get one. Patrick feigned an unbothered shrug “I didn’t do anything.”

Pete rolled his eyes and chuckled, one hand covering his smile. Patrick had to stop himself from frowning at that, he liked Pete’s smile. He had found that he would do things just to chase that smile. Making Pete smile was as addictive as anything Patrick had tried, though it should be mentioned that his experience with addictive substances mainly ended with alcohol, caffeine, and a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication. Pete was a habit he couldn’t kick. Perhaps it was him who was wrapped around Pete’s finger and not the other way around. Pete glanced back at Patrick again and let his hand drop, his smile faint but still there - just slightly pulling at his lips enough to upturn the corners of his eyes. Fuck, Patrick thought, quickly turning his head away when he realized he’d definitely been caught staring at Pete’s mouth. “You gotta stop that,” Pete muttered, leaning forward to hold Patrick’s chin in one hand, making him look at him again.

Patrick tipped his head back to free himself but then immediately regretting it as Pete leaned back again “uh huh,” he said when his brain was too overwhelmed to come up with actual words but he was aware that he had to say  _ something _ .

“You have somethin’ against me looking at you?” Pete teased.

“You’re just…” Patrick crossed his arms defensively but then felt childish doing so and put his hands back on his lap. He didn’t think there was a word in any language that properly summed up the way Pete’s gaze made Patrick feel. “Intense.”

Pete laughed and shook his head, hair falling into his face before he swept it back with one hand “can’t help it. You’re pretty damn nice to look at.”

Patrick kicked Pete’s leg gently and turned his head away again. He wanted to scold Pete for being such a flirt but at the same time there was still a part of him that believed he still might have a chance. He couldn’t tell if he wanted Pete to stop or not. He wanted Pete to mean it. He’d ask if he knew how, Patrick decided, but it was an empty promise because Patrick knew there wasn’t a right way to ask that didn’t at least risk things turning awkward. 

Patrick was so caught up in running through scenarios of himself ruining things that he didn’t notice as Pete shifted slightly closer. “If I said or did anything that made you uncomfortable, you’d tell me to stop, right?” Pete asked, bringing Patrick’s attention back to the real world.

“I…” Patrick trailed off, realizing he had no idea how to actually answer that. There wasn’t much Pete could do, realistically, that Patrick would protest to. He trusted Pete, perhaps more than he should, but he was trying to not be so cynical. “I - um - yeah, of course I would,” he eventually stammered “what are you thinking about doing?” He added, biting the inside of his lip.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Pete replied unhelpfully “just covering my bases.”

Patrick didn’t believe that for a second. Sure, Pete was impulsive and emotional and usually irrational and over-the-top with everything he did but Patrick didn’t believe for a moment that he didn’t have something up his sleeve at any given time. Patrick just had no clue what he was planning or even if he would act on it at all. As much time as they spent together, things were always left unsaid and undone. Patrick recognized his flaws, he was socially anxious at best and completely inept at worst, he could be completely oblivious to social cues as a result, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that this wasn’t a standard male friendship. The feminist part of his mind understood that generations of toxic masculinity had taught him to see platonic affection as foreign and unwanted, but the gay part of his brain wasn’t quite that good at rationalizing Pete’s compliments and gentle touches as being something that should be commonplace. 

“You can’t even give me that much?” Patrick pried, leaning back against the arm of his couch in a way that he hoped came off as casual as opposed to nervous, which was an understatement for how he had been feeling all day. Not that Pete made him nervous, the uncertainty of Pete made him nervous, his unpredictability was a wild card in Patrick’s previously straightforward life.

“That’d spoil the surprise, sugar,” Pete said, casually adjusting his watch. Patrick had used that move before, messing with his clothing as an excuse to not look at someone. It looked so effortless on Pete, surely Patrick was reading into things too much, could Pete really be equally nervous? He was probably projecting but it was a comforting thought nonetheless.

“Couldn’t have that,” Patrick mocked, “sure you’re not just making excuses?”

Pete glanced up and raised his palms in surrender “I could spoil it right now if you want, tell you how I see this ending for us if you want me to give the whole thing away, no more waiting or wondering, but wouldn’t you rather let it play out the way it was meant to happen?”

“You have a god complex,” Patrick laughed “don’t I get a say in what happens? Every action, however minute, has an impact on everything else, a bu-”

“Butterfly flaps its wings, I know the concept,” Pete smiled, shaking his head “but I think I’m right on this one. Call it faith, or maybe just an uncharacteristic stroke of optimism from me.”

“Well I can’t say my thoughts on the matter if I don’t even know what we’re talking about,” Patrick said, exasperation heavier on his voice than it was in his mind. Listening to Pete talk was an experience all in itself. His poetry was the same way. Patrick couldn’t say he fully understood it but he’d read over the pages anyway, finding something profoundly Pete in the lines of text though he had no clue what it was. He hadn’t really seen the appeal of poetry as a medium before but Pete’s words told a story that Patrick couldn’t even grasp but could still somehow feel, morphing completely even seconds later if he reread the same lines, leaving him with an entirely new feeling and thought-process. “I, um, I liked your book, by the way,”

Pete’s expression changed, still pleased but a little surprised as well “oh,” he said, laughing nervously “thanks, you didn’t need to read it right away, though, if you didn’t want to,”

Patrick shook his head and sat straight again “no, I - I wanted to. It’s really good. I still don’t really  _ get _ poetry but I like it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Pete smiled, continuing before Patrick could reply (he would have said yes, though) “none of us do. We’re all just a bunch of pretentious assholes making educated guesses as we try and pretend we can get in someone else’s head and know what they were thinking.”

“Is that another metaphor for life?’

“More of an analogy, if we’re being technical,” Pete smirked.

“Is it an  _ analogy _ for life then?” Patrick teased.

“Only if you want it to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is going up later than usual, I've been trying to keep up with schoolwork and everything else in my life and I may have forgotten that it's Friday. I hope you enjoyed it, though! Remember to reach out to tumble (lupinwritings) or leave me a comment because hearing from you all keeps me motivated! See you all next week, assuming the tension between these two doesn't kill either of us by then!


	16. Chapter 16

“You’re ridiculous,” Patrick rolled his eyes before focusing them back on Pete as he licked his lips. He had to be doing at least  _ some  _ of this on purpose, right? Was that awful of him to say? He just couldn’t imagine anyone being so effortlessly attractive and confident. Maybe the world just seemed a lot different through Pete’s eyes.

Pete made a noise of recognition that was somewhere between a hum and a chuckle. “You’ve mentioned that before.”

“Well,” Patrick pulled one knee up to his chest defensively, “you’ve acted ridiculous before,”

“Should we pretend that you don’t encourage it?” Pete said, raising an eyebrow.

Now it was Patrick’s turn to roll his eyes “oh please, you act just like this around Joe and Andy,”

Pete’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, dropping whatever facade he was holding, if Patrick wasn’t so busy staring at him he probably would have missed it “I most certainly do not!”

Patrick laughed “seriously? What do you do around me that you don’t do with them?”

Pete put his arm up on the back of the couch “you need me to spell it out for you, darling? Can you not think of anything I’m trying to do with you that I don’t do with them?”

“If you’re just trying to do something then you haven’t really done it then,” Patrick shrugged “you want a drink?”

Pete rubbed the palm of his hand over his eyes “fuckin’ hell, ‘Trick, what the hell. Sure.”

Patrick smiled as he got up, walking to the kitchen. He grabbed two coke cans from the back of the fridge “don’t act so excited,”

“Nothing personal,” Pete said, standing up to walk over to Patrick “it’s just late,”

Patrick leaned back against the counter and set the two glass bottles down “no one’s forcing you to stay,”

“I know you’re not, I just… this is going to sound sappy as hell but I don’t want to miss out on any time with you,”

Patrick looked down at the floor and shrugged “I’ll be around. I’m not going anywhere, for now at least.”

“I know.” Pete said simply “I’m just…” He stepped slightly closer to Patrick “I keep expecting you to.”

“Leave?” Patrick asked, looking back up. It was a preposterous idea. He couldn’t have found a better friend group in Winchester - or anywhere, now that he thought about it. He’d never had a friend group who he had been so close with or cared so much about even though he’d only known them a little over a month. He’d have to be stupid to leave. He liked his job, his friends, and even the town now that the culture shock was wearing off.

Pete shrugged “I guess.”

Patrick frowned. Before he had time to think about it he’d stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Pete’s neck, resting his head on his shoulder “you don’t have to worry about that, I’m not going anywhere.”

Pete froze for a second before placing his hands on Patrick’s back and pressing his face into his hair. After another second, he wrapped his arms fully around Patrick’s waist and pulled him closer like if he let go Patrick would run away. He wouldn’t, in fact, Patrick was more worried about the possibility of not being able to let go. Pete was warm and safe and exciting and kind and everything that Patrick felt that he was missing. Patrick was closed off and cold and boring and sometimes rude because it was easier than actually opening up to people and Patrick didn’t think he was a horrible person but god, Pete sure was better. “What did I do to deserve you?” Pete muttered, absently rubbing circles into Patrick’s hip.

“Probably something really bad,” Patrick chuckled, lifting his head off of Pete’s shoulder.’

“Shut up,” Pete smiled, resting his forehead against Patrick’s “don’t ruin it,”

“Are we having a moment?” Patrick asked, reaching one hand up to run his fingers through Pete’s hair.

“You tell me,” Pete moved his hands to rest on the small of Patrick’s back and Patrick felt dizzy from feeling his hands slide across his body like that even over his clothes. Was he really that lonely?

“What am I supposed to say?” It wasn’t lost on Patrick hot Pete shivered when Patrick’s fingers caught on a knot in his hair. Patrick has spent enough of his high school life with the other social rejects to know what flat ironed hair felt like. Pete’s was clearly fried beyond any recognition and Patrick was curious what it would look like naturally. Pete didn’t seem like the kind of person to do his hair every day so it was probably chemical relaxers. He was thinking too much into this.

“If I tell you what to say, wouldn’t that take some of the fun of it away?”

Patrick smiled and ran his thumb over the stubble on Pete’s jaw “I guess you’re right, you wanna talk about why you’re so scared of abandonment?”

Pete closed his eyes and chuckled “you really want to go there, huh? You’re lucky you’re so goddamn cute,” Patrick had to look away but Pete nudged him back to make him look at him “you’re infuriating.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to… it was a stupid question anyway,” Patrick swallowed, briefly wanting to pull away but something about the warmth of Pete’s eyes stopped him.

“It’s okay. I just can’t imagine that someone like you would want anything to do with me.”

Patrick ran his nails across Pete’sscalp, smiling when he leaned slightly into it “don’t be so hard on yourself. I’ve been thinking the same thing about you.”

“Here I was thinking I want the flirt,” Pete chuckled “you figure out what I do with you but not with the guys?”

Patrick shrugged “I have a few ideas.”

Pete’s grip on Patrick’s waist tightened slightly and Patrick let his hand fall to rest on the back of Pete’s neck. Patrick was almost surprised to feel how hard Pete’s heart was pounding. What was he planning? “You want a hint?”

Patrick bit his lip “I dunno, do I?”

Pete tensed his jaw and looked away for a moment. Patrick thought for a second he was about to pull away. Instead, Pete pulled Patrick closer and moved one hand to the back of his neck “can I kiss you?”

Patrick barely even registered himself nodding and then closing the gap between them. He barely noticed what had just happened until his lips were on Pete’s and his arms were tightening back around Pete’s neck, scared Pete was about to pull away or laugh or say it was all a joke. Pete’s lips were chapped and his stubble scratched against Patrick’s face, comfortably similar to what he was used to but the smell of Pete’s cologne mixed with sweat and dirt was so uniquely him. Patrick hadn’t thought too much about what kissing Pete would be like, he’d been actively working to avoid thinking about that at all costs but it was definitely better than what he’d imagined the few times his imagination had wandered a little too far. 

Pete backed Patrick up against the counter and moved one hand to Patrick’s neck, thumb running up and down his throat. Patrick had finally just about caught up to what was happening before that subtle movement from Pete had his mind wheeling again all he knew was that he was very happy about what was happening. He hadn’t been crazy, then, Pete had been hinting at something more. 

Patrick slid his hand back into Pete’s hair and gripped it probably a bit too tightly when Pete tilted his head more and ran his tongue over Patrick’s bottom lip. Patrick was sure he was shaking. He was never this desperate, not since his first time making out with a guy under the bleachers during a high school pep rally, but something about Pete made Patrick feel out of control in the best way possible. Fuck the work he had to do tomorrow, he just wanted Pete. Patrick squeezed his eyes shut with embarrassment when Pete pulled back slightly and Patrick let out a pathetic whine of disapproval.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby…” Pete breathed.

Patrick pressed his face into Pete’s neck to avoid looking at him, a smile plastered on his lips “you should have done that sooner.”

Pete chuckled and kissed Patrick’s hair “you should have asked me to sooner, you could have asked me that first day and I would have done anything you wanted.”

Patrick had to wait for a beat to breathe so that he could let himself calm down enough to speak “and now?”

Pete smiled and pressed the pad of his thumb against Patrick’s throat for a brief moment “now I’d rather tease you.”

Patrick laughed and smacked the back of Pete’s head “shut up.”

“Make me,” Pete grinned, holding Patrick’s chin to make him look at him.

Patrick, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically brave, pulled Pete down by his hair and kissed him again. The way Pete talked about him and touched him made him feel wanted. It had been a long time since he’d felt that. Pete let Patrick take control this time even though he still had him pressed against the counter. Patrick tugged gently on Pete’s hair again, smiling at the way it made Pete’s movement’s stutter briefly. He’d keep that in mind for later, whatever later might bring. “You’ve gotta stop that if you want me to leave any time soon,” Pete muttered, pulling back just enough to speak but still close enough that Patrick could feel his breath and hear the subtle tremble of his voice.

“I don’t want you to,” Patrick admitted, “I don’t care what happens from here I just don’t want you to leave.”

Pete ran his fingers through Patrick’s hair “then I won’t,” he looked at Patrick for a moment and must have seen the fear in the other man’s face “when I do, though, you know I’ll come back, right?”

Patrick shrugged and looked away. He trusted Pete but he didn’t trust his history with keeping anyone interested for more than 24 hours. When Patrick didn’t saw anything Pete kissed his cheek “you’re stuck with me now until you tell me to fuck off and not come back. I like you way too much for that.”

“You’re sweet,” Patrick breathed, “thank you. I’m just a little in my own head right now.”

“Uh huh,” Pete smiled, “you want a hand getting out?”

Patrick shook his head and smiled “please. I’d happily accept a distraction right now. What are you planning?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Pete kissed Patrick quickly “want to go somewhere more comfortable and I can show you?”

Patrick nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it finally happened! Thank you to everyone who has read this far! Also an extra special thank you to everyone who has left comments since they keep me motivated to keep updating so if you have any thoughts about this chapter or fic please let me know!
> 
> Also, sorry this is a day late, I totally forgot to post yesterday. Hopefully it was worth the wait!


	17. Chapter 17

Patrick pulled the blankets tighter around himself before realizing that the reason that he was a) awake and b) suddenly cold was because the warm body which had previously been beside him was no longer there. He opened his eyes and could only barely see Pete in the dim light. The sun wasn’t even up yet. Patrick wasn’t awake enough to form anything close to a complete sentence but the annoyed groan he let out was enough to get Pete’s attention.

“Hey,” Pete whispered, one hand pausing from buttoning his shirt to card through Patrick’s hair casually “go back to sleep, it’s early,”

Patrick reached up to hold Pete’s wrist, making him chuckle “cute,” he muttered before pulling his hand back to finish getting dressed.

“Are you leaving?” Patrick finally managed to form, pushing his face into the pillow, not ready to be awake even for Pete.

“I’ve got to get to work, I’d stay if I could,”

“Five more minutes?” Patrick lifted his eyes just enough to see Pete’s silhouette.

“Patrick…” Pete murmured and Patrick prepared himself to be turned down before he felt the bed dip beside him “I’ve got to learn to say no to you,”

Patrick would have time to feel guilty about that later but at the moment he was busy pressing his face back into Pete’s neck. He had to force his eyes open a few times to keep himself from falling back asleep because the room was still pitch black and the way Pete was playing with his hair was putting him to sleep. When he opened his eyes next, the room was bright and he was in his bed alone. Fuck.

Patrick groaned and rolled onto his stomach, feeling sore and mad at himself for falling back asleep when there was a lot he needed to say to Pete. After a few minutes of self-pity he forced himself out of bed and into the shower because he’d needed one when he got home last night and probably desperately needed one now. Despite how shitty he felt, he didn’t regret it. Pete was everything he’d subconsciously (and consciously a few times but Patrick wasn’t proud of that) hoped for. As he forced himself under the cold shower of water he closed his eyes and thought back to the feeling of kissing him.

_ “Are you staying?” Patrick had asked breathlessly, one hand on Pete’s chest and the other on his forearm, briefly pausing their makeout session on the couch. It was almost hard to break away even just this much, he desperately wanted Pete to keep doing whatever he wanted, but the question had been nagging at his mind and pulling out from a moment which he really wanted to be present for. _

_ “Do you want me to?” Pete had answered, putting one hand down on the couch beside Patrick’s hip to keep himself steady. _

_ “I don’t necessarily mean like that,” Patrick rolled his eyes but he was sure Pete noticed how he’d squirmed slightly at the idea “I just mean… if you wanted to just spend the night, you could, I trust you.” _

_ “How kind of you,” Pete teased, dipping his head to kiss Patrick’s neck “sure you don’t have any ulterior motives?” _

_ Patrick had whined and wrapped one arm around Pete’s neck before bringing his shoulder up to push Pete away “how dare you insinuate anything of the sort, I’m a gentleman,” _

_ “I’m sure you are,” Pete chuckled, shifting back to his own side of the couch. For a moment, Patrick worried that he’d made Pete think he wanted to stop but instead Pete just pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt “even gentlemen have their vices.” _

_ Patrick had crawled closer on his knees until Pete released his grip “it’s not very gentlemanly of you to pull people around like that,” he teased but it was a weak effort, his mind was on other things. _

_ “Even if you like it?” Pete had smirked, holding Patrick’s chin. _

_ “Shut up.” _

Patrick turned the water off once he felt like he had sufficiently washed off the sweat and dirt from yesterday then took an Advil for the pain in his neck and spine. Pete had fucked him up and they hadn’t even fucked. At around midnight Pete had agreed to stay the night on the condition that Patrick didn’t get upset when he had to leave in the morning. Patrick wasn’t really holding up his part of the bargain. He wanted to text him just to work out the immediate issues: where did they go from here? Did Pete regret it? When could he see him again?

Patrick threw on a shower robe and walked back into his bedroom to look for his phone. He found it beside a yellow sticky note that matched the ones covering Patrick’s fridge on the bedside table. The handwriting on it was almost impossible to decipher and very clearly Pete’s.

_ Patrick _

_ Just in case you forgot or are overthinking: I have to go to work but I don’t regret last night. I hope you don’t either. Text me when you get a chance so that I know you’re not freaking out? I’ll try and get back to you but also don’t freak out if it takes me a few minutes. _

Patrick smiled and put the note back down on the table, he knew there was no point in keeping it but he definitely wasn’t going to get rid of it. He reached for his phone next to text Pete.

_ Just woke up. Not freaking out too bad yet. Should I be? _

He put the phone down again to keep himself from obsessing over it as he went to put the coffee maker on but soon after went back to check, taking it back into the kitchen with him while he made breakfast to keep an eye on it for notifications. The lock screen stayed dark besides an email about a sale happening at a store in Chicago that he’d bought shoes from once and a notification from a news app about a sports game that he didn’t care about until he had sat down with a bowl of cereal and was scrolling through Netflix to entertain himself while he procrastinated his grading.

_ Pete: glad to hear it. I was starting to get worried you were ignoring me. Are we still okay? _

_ I’m pretty okay with you, so unless you’ve decided otherwise, yes _

_ Pete: well I’m still obsessed with everything about you so we’re good _

Patrick smiled and rolled his eyes before typing back.

_ Creepy. Don’t you have work to do? _

_ Pete: taking a break. You have my full attention for a few minutes. _

Patrick decided to take a chance and change the subject, hoping it didn’t come off as uninterested.

_ When are you going to show me the animals? _

_ Pete: how’s tomorrow night sound? They let you out on school nights? _

_ Shut up. Tomorrow night is fine. _

_ Pete: okay. I’m sorry I had to leave so early again. I feel like a dick for that. _

Patrick chewed his lip absently before he realized he was doing it and stopped. Usually, Patrick was the one leaving before someone woke up or if he wasn’t, he was grateful that the other person had. He thought Pete leaving would bug him more than it had, he almost couldn’t believe that he wasn’t a ball of anxiety by this point, but he trusted Pete. If he said he wanted to stay, then that’s what happened. No questions asked.

_ It’s okay. I have work to do too and I wouldn’t have the self-control to ask you to leave. _

_ Pete: I’ll make it up to you and have someone cover for me if you want to do that again. _

_ I’m not opposed if you can make it work. _

_ Pete: I wasn’t planning on last night to go the way it did, I’ll plan better next time. _

_ Pete: I’m glad it went the way it did, just so you know. _

Patrick smiled as he replied.

_ I’m glad too _

_ Pete: I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you tomorrow once you’re done with class? Try not to miss me too much until then? _

_ I’ll do my best. No promises. _

  
  


Focusing on grading was difficult, even more so that usual. Patrick’s mind was torn between thinking back to last night and anticipating tomorrow. He was lucky that he enjoyed the papers he was grading, though. There wasn’t a lot of writing involved in music classes, at least not the way Patrick wanted to teach, but he had asked his students to write a brief report on what made them take music as their art credit. At this point in the semester, almost every student had started to open up and figure out what they were doing, even the students in the introductory courses. Once he was finally able to make himself sit down and start, the papers were pretty interesting. He didn’t know how teachers who didn’t love what they taught did it. He didn’t believe the statement that if you do something you love then it’s not really work, but doing something he liked certainly helped. Patrick hadn’t thought he’d enjoy teaching this much, he’d always seen himself going into music production or something else along those lines. He’d grown up being told that God had a plan for everyone and things would work out but he hadn’t really believed it. When he’d first realized that he actually had to take this job he’d thought this was the end, that he’d spend the next year or so doing anything he could to get back on the right track but not that he was here, going back felt more and more wrong.

Most of his students had written how they loved music and took the class because of that, a few wrote how they wanted to study music in college or wanted to get signed, those were perfectly good answers and there wasn’t really any right or wrong answers to the question, but a few particularly honest students had written that they’d taken music just because they needed to take something but that they’d grown to really like the class. Those were the answers that stuck with Patrick even once he’d finished grading the essays. He couldn’t imagine going back to the city to do production when there were people here who really needed and cared about him. If he left, who would take his spot? Not just at the school, though that was a part of it. Whether he liked it or not, he was a part of the community, he couldn’t just disappear into the crowd as he could before. He was sure that no one in his shitty, overpriced apartment had even asked about him when he finally left, if he left Winchester he knew it would be the topic of conversation for weeks.

There was a new issue he needed to address now, though, as he thought about his place in the community. He couldn’t just ignore the topic of his sexuality forever if he was seeing Pete. Not that he was planning on making an announcement at church or telling the papers yet (or ever) but the issue would present itself eventually. It wasn’t just his problem anymore, it was Pete’s too. Was Pete even out? He’d never really mentioned his sexuality directly. Were they going to have to hide their relationship forever? How would they manage to do that and be happy when people were so close and already on the lookout for a scandal so they’d have something to talk about. Almost even scarier than that was the possibility that Pete was out and wouldn’t want to go back in the closet for him. Patrick’s sexuality was, realistically, going to become the topic of discussion at some point, it was just a question of when. And how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going up late but it's still on the right say so we're counting that as a success! I get out of classes pretty late so we'll just have to make this work for now until I get ahead on chapters again and can post quicker. I'm also starting to think about what I'm planning on writing next, which is very exciting, but don't worry this fic isn't even close to done, but if you want to be involved in that process, updates will go up on my tumblr (lupinwritings) so follow me there if you want to see those! I hope you're enjoying the fic and remember to leave comments so that I know and to help me stay motivated! Thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

“You seem like you’ve settled in well,” Gerard said, making Patrick jump as he stepped into the teacher’s lounge. Usually, he didn’t socialize too much with the other teachers, the conversation generally focused around sports or facebook drama or whatever topic was being taught that day, but the lounge did have a coffee pot and Patrick desperately needed caffeine. He’d been up later than he meant to working on class-plans and also had a feeling that he wouldn’t be having an early night tonight.

“Huh?” Patrick asked before his brain processed what had been said “oh, you think?”

Gerard put down the magazine he’d been reading -or at least looking at- and shrugged “seems it. You and Wentz are pretty close, huh?”

Patrick’s breathing stopped for a second and he was suddenly very awake, caffeine or not. Gerard spoke again before Patrick had time to think of a response “don’t look so surprised, if you don’t want folks seeing you together he’ll have to stop leaving his truck in your driveway,”

Patrick shook himself out of his shock and took the pot out of the coffee maker, relieved to find that it wasn’t empty “guess you’ve got a point. What are- uh - what’re people saying?” He asked before quickly adding “just out of curiosity.”

“Nothing much, slow gossip week from what Lyn-Z’s told me. He’s a good enough kid, don’t get me wrong, but just not who I thought you’d end up spending time with.”

“I thought he was a bit of a pain when he was in school?” Patrick asked, taking a sip off his coffee before making a face when it was cold.

“Oh he was, but he’s still a good guy. He was a pain but he was always harmless.”

Harmless was an interesting word for Pete, Patrick thought as he put his coffee mug in the microwave and tried not to smile “he’s certainly interesting. What do you mean he’s not the kind of person you’d think I’d spend time with?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Gerard said “it’s not an insult to either of y’all. I just mean he’s so… Pete. And you seemed a bit more…”

Patrick laughed and shook his head as Gerard trailed off. Patrick had thought the same thing many times before “you have a point. I hadn’t pictured things turning out like this when I first moved down, but I’m happy.”

“Glad to hear it,” Gerard smiled, seemingly glad to not have to finish his previous thought “not to change the topic, but do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

Patrick exhaled and fixed his gaze on the carpet for a second. He had not. It was mid-October by now, he’d always imagined that he’d go back to Chicago but the thought of leaving now felt wrong, even if he would only be gone for a few days “I guess that’s coming up, huh?”

“Snuck up on me too until I realized I promised I’d fly my family down. Sorry to spring that on ya.”

“No, it’s fine, I just hadn’t realized. I guess I’ll start looking into plane tickets, my family would probably revolt if I didn’t visit.”

“Don’t say that like it’s such a bad thing,” Gerard chuckled.

“I don’t mean like that, I just like how things are going here, plus tickets are expensive and my aunt keeps asking when I’m going to get married.” Those things were true, he just left out the part where he said how he also had just started dating (or at least making out with) Pete and didn’t want to miss any more of that than he had to in order to not get fired.

  
  


Patrick didn’t have much reason to go further into the countryside, usually his excursions either took him into the town or onto the highway. The few times he’d gone further away from town had been with Pete so Patrick found that as he made a right turn instead of his usual left out of his driveway that the landscape quickly became unfamiliar. Granted, it was still the same trees and fields that the rest of the area was filled with, but the occasional house that he passed was unfamiliar. He’d always imagined that Pete lived pretty close where he came by so often but he was surprised to find that it took nearly 10 minutes before his GPS told him to turn off the road. An eight-minute drive would have once seemed like next to nothing but in Winchester, eight minutes took you through downtown multiple times. 

He’d known that Pete lived on a farm but he was still somehow surprised when the dirt driveway led up to an old-looking, two-story house next to a real-life barn. Enough time in Winchester had gotten Patrick used to seeing barns, he just hadn’t seen one up close before, they were always more of a mildly interesting view from the road. He checked the clock on his dash and then double-checked his watch to make sure he wasn’t too early, Pete had said to come over any time after 5 and it was 5:26 as he parked the car. Before he could worry too much about whether 5:26 was too early, too late, or an appropriate time, something ran into his car door hard enough to jolt the entire vehicle. 

Once Patrick removed his arms from around his head as he’d instinctively braced himself, he looked over to see Pete wrestling with a large brown dog “sorry!” Pete laughed, holding the dog by the collar “he’s just excited. Down, boy,” he said sternly and the dog laid down, tail still thumping against the ground and tongue hanging out.

Patrick hesitantly opened the door, not entirely trusting the dog not to jump at him again “I didn’t know you had a dog,”

“My dad had him for hunting, but now he mainly hunts for treats. He doesn’t bite or anything, though, he just likes people,” Pete was talking fast. Was he nervous?

Patrick smiled and shut the car door behind him “well you’re both lucky then because I like dogs,”

“What’s that implying?” Pete laughed, taking Patrick’s arm and taking him towards the house.

“I don’t mean - shut up,” Patrick shook his head and put his hand over Pete’s “so what are you planning tonight?”

Patrick whistled and the dog followed them inside before he took his baseball cap off “would you be mad if I didn’t have much of a plan?”

“Not at all,” Patrick smiled at him before glancing around the house. Large windows and white walls made the room look bigger than it should have. The whole first floor was one room from what Patrick could tell and a staircase led upstairs. Patrick’s eyes lingered on the acoustic guitars hanging on one wall “do you play?” He asked, glancing back at Pete.

“A bit, I was always better at bass.”

“You mentioned that, I’d love to hear you play,”

“You’re one to talk,” Pete teased, “I still haven’t you play anything, Mr. Stump,”

Patrick mock gagged and pushed Pete away “never call me that. That’s what my students call me.”

“Something you’d rather I call you, sugar?” Pete chuckled, ducking sway from Patrick’s hand to pull him closer and kiss his neck.

“Jesus,” Patrick laughed, trying to ignore how he automatically gripped the back of Pete’s shirt “you’re awful.”

“You want me to give you a tour?” Pete said like nothing had happened.

“Hold on,” Patrick laughed, pulling him closer again “don’t go running off yet,” he was about to kiss Pete but he stopped himself “you live alone, right?”

“Yessir,” Pete chuckled, one arm wrapping around Patrick’s waist “no neighbors within earshot either,”

“Good,” Patrick grinned before pulling Pete down by his hair to kiss him. Being this close to Pete felt so natural. The weight that had been lifted now that he didn’t have to heavily consider his every action to not scare Pete off… Patrick wasn’t sure how he did it before. “Okay,” he finally breathed, “go be a good host,”

  
  


Pete had invited Patrick to make himself at home after he’d shown him around the house but Patrick hadn’t been able to pull himself off of Pete since they’d settled down on the couch. Self-control was a virtue which he clearly lacked. He only noticed how long they’d been there when pins and needles shot through his leg as Pete shifted and let blood flow back into the limb. “Ow, fuck,” Patrick laughed, letting his head fall back onto the arm of the couch.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked worriedly, crawling off of Patrick until he reached down and grabbed Pete’s collar.

“No, come back, my leg’s just asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Change positions?”

Patrick laughed again and sat up, ruffling Pete’s hair when he put his chin on Patrick’s chest “you’re adorable.”

“Hey,” Pete pouted “I grew up with a lot of toxic masculinity, easy on the adorables.”

“Really? I won’t say it if you don’t like it,”

“Nah, I don’t care.” Pete chuckled as he sat up as well, stretching his arms above his head.

“Can I ask you something?” Patrick said without really thinking about it, he was committed now, though.

“Shoot,” said Pete as he settled down on the other side of the couch. The sun was close to setting, the light coming in from the large windows taking on a slight orange hue and painting Pete’s skin gold. He was distracting.

“You said something when we were at the river about… was that about your sexuality?” Patrick hadn’t really intended to ask before a moment ago, the question had come to his mind as he’d asked it. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d been thinking about it until he said it.

Pete looked away and out the window instead, frowning “yeah. My dad overheard me talking with a guy one night and I just… I was convinced I was about to get kicked out or… I dunno. So I just grabbed the keys and left.”

Patrick frowned and scooted closer, not sure if Pete wanted him close at the moment. It seemed like a painful memory. Patrick knew how lucky he was to have accepting parents, not everyone had that luxury. Not that it made coming out easy, but at least he didn’t have the threat of violence, Pete might not have been so lucky. 

“I wasn’t really driving anywhere in particular but I ended up in Atlanta for a few weeks,” Pete continued. “Funny thing was when I finally came back, he didn’t even care. Just told me not to leave again.”

Patrick slowly leaned against Pete’s chest, feeling better that at least the story he’d brought up didn’t end badly. Pete’s arm wrapped around Patrick’s waist and rubbed his hip. Patrick watched his hand for a moment before looking up at him “is your dad…?”

“On a hunting trip in North Carolina. Don’t worry.”

Patrick smiled and closed his eyes, curling into Pete “okay. Good. I’d feel really bad otherwise. Thank you for telling me, though.”

Pete shrugged “don’t worry about it. I’m the one who brought it up in the first place.”

Patrick shifted slightly and opened his eyes to look out the window “it’s really pretty tonight.”

Pete hummed in agreement and brought his other hand up to play with Patrick’s hair, “sure is,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! As you can see we have hit the part of the fic where I write nothing but fluff until all of us feel better about the angst I put you through. I hope you enjoy! As always please leave some comments to let me know what you're thinking! See you next week!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: just smut

Patrick didn’t need to be convinced after Pete asked him to stay the night. He had class in the morning but he didn’t care. Patrick had expected a late night but he was still surprised when he caught a glance at the digital clock reading 1:04 AM. “Fuck,” he breathed, sitting up, still straddling Pete’s hips.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Pete asked, running one hand up Patrick’s thigh comfortingly “we can stop if you need,”

Patrick shook his head and rubbed his face “no, it’s fine, it’s just late and we both have to work in the morning,”

“Killjoy,” Pete sighed “you’re right, but…”

Patrick reluctantly climbed off Pete before climbing under the covers “I know.”

Pete kissed Patrick’s cheek and draped one arm over his side “think we should just abandon our responsibilities and make out forever?”

“God, please,” Patrick agreed, though it came out as more of a whine than he’d intended.

“You’ve got to stop that,” Pete sighed “you’re so gosh-darn attractive,”

Patrick laughed and turned his face away even though it was dark “I didn’t do anything,”

“Liar,” Pete whispered, “you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Patrick repeated but this time he very much did know what he was doing as he swung one leg over Pete’s hip.

“You’re such a brat,” Pete muttered as he pushed Patrick into the mattress, shifting back on top of him.

“What are you going to do about it?” Patrick teased.

Pete was silent for a second and Patrick really wished he had some light to see his expression. He eventually just shook his head before sitting up on his knees and pulling his shirt off. Once his hands came back down to rest on Patrick’s thighs, he pulled him closer, a little rougher than he’d been before “you’re gonna find out if you don’t knock it off.”

Patrick brough his arms up to cover his face before realizing that Pete’s shirt being off meant that there was a lot of newly exposed skin that he wanted to explore. That gave Pete the opportunity for Pete to lean down and kiss Patrick, not that he minded, though. Patrick decided that he wasn’t going to look at the clock anymore after that, he didn’t particularly care how much sleep he got that night. This was time much better spent.

“Prove it,” Patrick said, hoping Pete didn’t notice the slight break in his voice.

“You’re fucking impossible,” Pete laughed before sitting up and kneeling “first you’re going to tell me what you want,”

Patrick could feel himself blushing and he pulled his arms over his face. He only groaned in protest and squirmed under Pete.

“I’m not doing anything until you tell me it's okay,” Pete said, kissing Patrick’s shoulder “but I’d really like to blow you if you want,”

Patrick clenched his jaw as his head went fuzzy and he nodded, hoping that was enough for Pete because he didn’t trust his brain’s ability to form words at the moment.

“Good boy,” Pete muttered so casually that it seemed like he didn’t even think about it as he shifted back to pull Patrick’s sweatpants off “tell me to stop if you need, okay?”

Patrick nodded again, moving his arms back to watch Pete intently.

Pete glanced up, fingers curled under the waistband of Patrick’s briefs “okay?” he repeated.

Patrick exhaled and nodded again “got it. I will. Please just- please?” he had meant to sound reassuring a jokingly annoyed but it came out desperate as Pete pulled down his briefs.

Patrick was caught between wanting desperately to watch Pete and also wanting to look away because there was still something embarrassing about watching someone else see him with his clothes off. The decision was made for him when Pete brought his hand down to wrap around Patrick’s dick, causing Patrick’s eyes to instantly squeeze shut. Pete chuckled and Patrick was surprised as he realized that he didn’t even consider him laughing at him at all maliciously. Usually Patrick overanalyzed sexual encounters, constantly worried the other person would decide that he wasn’t attractive or worth it anymore. He didn’t even consider that possibility with Pete. That train of thought was immediately cut off when Pete’s hand was replaced by his mouth.

Patrick had gotten plenty of blowjobs before, usually given as just a pretense to sex. Patrick had given that kind of blowjob before and not thought too much about it. Pete, however, was sucking his dick like it was the only thing that mattered. He wasn’t speeding through it to get to the next part or just to get a reaction, his movements were slow and he seemed fully engaged. His hand that wasn’t squeezing the base of Patrick’s dick was pressed into his thigh, his cheeks hollowed and his tongue running along new places just frequently enough to keep Patrick off-guard and pushing up into his mouth. Patrick couldn’t help but bring one hand down to grip Pete’s hair, only giving himself more of an advantage when Pete groaned and pressed his head down lower. Pete moved his now-free hand to hold Patrick’s other thigh down, he’d probably be sore in the morning but he didn’t have the motivation or mental capacity to get Pete to lighten up. He forced his eyes open for a moment to watch Pete bobbing his head, only to have Pete drag his head up in just the right way to make Patrick’s vision go blurry for a second.

“Pete,” he whimpered, pushing him off with his knee against his shoulder and his hand still grabbing his hair “I’m gonna cum,” he managed to whine as Pete pulled off “fuck,” he breathed, letting his head drop against the pillows.

“You okay?” Pete asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, propping himself on his elbows, trying to seem stable even though his felt anything but “fine, I just…” he’d usually leave it there but he knew that Pete wouldn’t do anything else until he asked directly “fuck me?” he managed to mumble, looking up at the ceiling instead of at Pete.

Pete leaned forward to kiss along Patrick’s jaw “you’re not gonna let me take this slow, huh?”

“You’re a tease,” Patrick whispered as his head started to clear a bit. Of course, he was still painfully horny, but he could at least start to form words again. He ran his fingers up Pete’s back and then through his hair, noting how his skin was damp with sweat. He wanted to have Pete equally desperate to finally break that nonchalant and charismatic persona.

“You’ve done this before, right?” Pete asked instead of responding to Patrick.

Patrick resisted his initial response that of course he had, remembering that Pete didn’t come out in a city with gay bars and hookup apps. “Yeah. You have too, right?” He couldn’t imagine Pete being that talented without a good deal of practice, but it felt right to ask.

“Did it seem like my first time?” Pete chuckled, resting his forehead against Pete’s for a moment before pulling back to toss off his exercise shorts. Patrick wasn’t surprised when he saw that he hadn’t been wearing underwear under them.

“No but you’re…” Patrick trailed off, his mind going blank until Pete laughed and kissed him.

“You’re so fucking cute when you make that face,” he muttered against Patrick’s lips.

“What’d I do?” Patrick asked, genuinely confused.

“You can’t be serious…” Pete smiled and shook his head “you want me to fuck you, sugar?”

Patrick swallowed and nodded, letting Pete press him down into the bed as he did “please,” he whispered as if he was scared someone would hear him.

“Good. You’re gonna be a good boy and stay still for me while I grab a condom?” Pete asked as he ran his fingers along the collar of Patrick’s t-shirt. As he did Patrick realized that he’d never asked Patrick to take it off. Patrick didn’t strongly feel the need to keep it on, especially now knowing that Pete wouldn’t have minded if he did. He felt himself nodding without even thinking about it, he had a feeling he’d do pretty much whatever Pete asked at this point. Once Pete moved off of him he shifted to pull his shirt off, watching Pete roll to the other side of the bed and open a bedside dresser drawer.

“I thought I told you to stay still,” Pete said without turning to face him until he had a bottle of lube and a condom in one hand.

Patrick tightened his jaw and tried to hide a smile “oops,” he muttered, trying not to laugh. Pete had fried his brain to the point where he’d completely forgotten about that.

Patrick laughed and shook his head “goddamnit. C’mere. You’re adorable.”

Patrick crawled over and kissed him, unsure whether he was relieved that Pete’s order had been empty or disappointed. He told himself that there would be time to work through that later. “I forgot,” he admitted as he reached down to stroke Pete, wanting to encourage him to hurry up.

“Jesus,” Pete inhaled sharply “fucking -” he pulled Patrick’s hand off and pulled his hands above his head, pressing him back down “you’re insatiable.” Patrick squirmed, whimpering just to get a reaction from Pete. It worked, as Pete squeezed Patrick’s wrists harder before letting go to push Patrick’s legs up. 

Patrick grabbed the pillowcase as he felt Pete rub a lubed finger against Patrick’s hole before slowly pushing it in. The first few moments weren’t particularly pleasurable on their own but feeling Pete’s hands against his skin and feeling him inside of him was enough to have him bringing a hand down to bite his knuckles.

“You okay, sugar?” Pete asked, a smile tugging on his lips as he watched him squirm.

Patrick nodded and let Pete move his hand back above his head. He wanted the ability to muffle the noises he knew he was about to start making but knew that Pete wasn’t going to accept that.

Patrick closed his eyes when Pete pushed in a second finger, spreading him open enough to make him moan softly. “You’re such a little slut,” Pete chuckled, making Patrick groan again. He didn’t think it would sound nearly as hot if it wasn’t coming from Pete. “You like that?” He asked, tipping Patrick’s chin up with his free hand like he was inspecting him.

Patrick couldn’t nod but the desperate moan he let out when Pete rubbed his fingers against his prostate said enough “you ready for me to stop teasing you?” he asked, still holding Patrick’s chin so he couldn’t get away with just nodding.

“Yes,” he whimpered out, squeezing his eyes shut “please,”

  
  


“There’s my good boy,” Pete muttered before pulling back. Patrick could hear Pete tear open the condom before he felt his fingers pull out “look at me,” he said carefully, and when Patrick opened his eyes he couldn’t help but meet Pete’s gaze. His pupils were blown out, black nearly overtaking the amber, as he shifted closer to Patrick again. “Tell me if you want to stop or take a break, okay?” He muttered, pausing until Patrick nodded in response. “Okay, good boy,” he repeated before slowly sliding into him.

Patrick’s moan was finally overshadowed by Pete groaning against Patrick’s neck. Patrick suddenly couldn’t imagine how he had gone so long without having Pete inside him. He’d gotten addicted to this feeling before when he wasn’t already addicted to the person, he could only imagine how badly he’d need this all the time. He gasped as Pete started to move, pressing his face harder against Patrick’s neck before he pulled back, mouth hanging open slightly as he tried to keep his breathing even. Patrick wrapped his legs around Pete’s hips, wanting to see him come undone as he pushed him deeper into him.

As Pete pushed hard against his prostate Patrick knew he wasn’t going to last long. He’d have time to be embarrassed about that later as his mind was all but wiped when Pete started to thrust hard into him. He choked out a moan that sounded vaguely like Pete’s name but he was too far gone to know for sure. It had been a long time since he’d had sex so he wasn’t surprised when after only a few minutes of letting Pete thrust into him he felt his back arch to get Pete hitting his prostate again and he felt heat pooling in his stomach. He pushed his head to the side and moaned, suddenly realizing that he couldn’t figure out how to inhale once he ran out of air. 

As soon as he felt Pete reach between them to touch him, his whole body tensed and he came over his stomach, finally gasping Pete’s name and panting hard enough to make his chest hurt. Pete moaned as he held Patrick’s hips in place and his thrusts started to become more uneven. After a second which felt like days and also didn’t seem to happen at all in Patrick’s fuzzy mind, Patrick heard Pete’s voice break as he came. They breathed together for a few moments, though Patrick couldn’t measure time anymore now that the rhythmic movement of Pete’s hips had stopped. He whined as Pete pulled out, leaving him feeling empty and spent. Patrick couldn’t say what happened after that as the next time his eyes opened, sunlight was filtering through the white curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is coming a day late but I hope the content makes up for it ;)
> 
> As always I love comments so feel free to let me know any thoughts you have about the chapter or the fic itself. Hopefully I'll be a bit more consistent with posting on time soon since I'm not working on Fridays anymore but we'll see. As always thanks for reading and I'll see you next week!


	20. Chapter 20

Patrick closed his eyes and let himself settle back into the warm blankets before suddenly realizing that he had class today. He quickly untangled himself from the blankets and looked at the clock beside the bed. 7:17. Fuck. He had to get home and shower and gather his things and there was no way he could do all of that before his first class started at 8. He threw on his clothes from the day before and felt a pang of guilt about leaving without saying anything to Pete, but Pete knew he had work in the morning and should have woken him instead of just leaving him to sleep in.

The house was quiet as he speed-walked down the stairs until he was stopped by Pete’s dog sitting down right in his way. Just his luck. “Hey, buddy, you’re very cute but I am already very late,” he said, scratching the dog’s ear in an attempt to gently push them out of the way.

He stepped over the dog when it laid down to ask for a belly rub before walking out to his car. He didn’t look for Pete, he’d text him on his lunch break, but he really had to focus on making sure he wasn’t any later than he needed to be. He’d need to talk to him about boundaries soon, not making him late to work was an important part of this relationship, but then again Patrick knew this wasn’t entirely Pete’s fault. He’d known how tired he was going to be when he’d decided to keep egging Pete on last night. He’d need to have a conversation with himself about boundaries as well, it seemed.

  
  


Patrick expected a classroom of students messing around or worse, a classroom empty after students had given up and ditched, when he walked in. He was already preparing himself as he walked through the empty hallway, but instead, when he walked into the classroom he saw Lyn-Z standing at the front of the classroom, almost every desk full. “Oh,” she said, hopping off the stool “Mr. Stump, I didn’t think you’d be in until after lunch. Feeling better?”

“Um,” he said, confused “yeah, much better,” he said without fully understanding what he was agreeing to. It seemed best to just play along.

“I didn’t have your class notes so we’ve just been reviewing stuff and practicing their pieces but I’ll let you take over,” she said casually before walking past him into the hallway “glad to hear you’re feeling better. See you around.”

Patrick tried his best to seem casual as he dropped his bag at his desk and cleared his throat “sorry about that. I guess let’s pick up where we left off yesterday for the remainder of class, alright?”

There was a mumble of responses as the students took their notes and sheet music out of their bags. Patrick hoped they didn’t notice the way he winced slightly when he sat down.

  
  


Patrick took out his phone to text Pete while he took his lunch break in his classroom. Regardless of who had decided to have Lyn-Z sub for his class, he was lucky that they had, and that she had been available to do so. Patrick hated the idea that his classes weren’t getting enough of his time or attention. His students didn’t deserve that. As he opened his text conversation with Pete, he realized that he had an unread message from him.

_ Pete: I called the school to say you texted me to ask me to call since you lost your voice. Sleep in as long as you need, I’m going to try and get stuff done so that I can come see you once you get up. Yet again, I am not abandoning you. I’m more than happy to come back for round two or just to hang out, make yourself at home until then. _

Patrick sighed and put his head down on his arms for a moment. Did he really not check his phone before he left? He let himself pity the fact that he could be cuddling with Pete right now if he’d just checked before picking his head back up and replying.

_ I completely missed this because I was trying not to be late. I didn’t mean to run out without saying goodbye. Can I make it up to you? _

After a second he typed out and sent a second message.

_ Thank you for calling. _

He was partway through logging his attendance sheet into the online system when his phone lit up with a response.

_ Pete: no problem. I figured you missed it when I saw your car gone. Any plans for Friday night? _

Patrick smiled. Friday wasn’t a school night.

_ None at all. _

_ Pete: perfect. You still have some animals to meet and we have some time to make up for _

_ Can’t wait. Can I be cheesy for a moment? _

_ Pete: I’m scared but yes _

_ I had a good time last night, even though I nearly had a heart attack and crashed my car this morning drying to back up too fast out of your driveway. _

_ Pete: I had a good time too. You’re a pretty good lay _

Patrick rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile, even though he hid it behind one hand as if anyone could see him.

_ You’re an asshole. Go find a cow to milk _

_ Pete: I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true _

  
  


Patrick stood in his living room for a moment once the door swung close. It was starting to get cool in the evenings now but not enough that he was ready to turn the AC off and leave the screen door open yet. After being either busy with work or around Pete’s overwhelming energy for so long, it was almost strange to be just alone in an empty house without much to do now. He didn’t have anything he needed to do before tomorrow besides just printing out his class notes. He barely knew what to do with himself. For a moment he was tempted to text Pete but he knew that having Pete become his only habit wasn’t healthy. 

He picked up his acoustic guitar which he hadn’t had time to play recently and almost sat down on his couch before he realized that he had his whole property. No one would complain or even hear if he played outside. He went out to his porch instead and re-tuned the instrument, the strings shifted from disuse. He almost expected someone to say something despite the yard and road being empty. Winchester felt, in some ways, so much more crowded than Chicago ever did because he actually knew most of the people he saw, and most of them had something to say. He couldn’t walk anywhere without someone asking how he was doing or some other peasantry the way he’d been able to do just about anything in Chicago without anyone caring so long as it didn’t disturb or affect them. It was nice to finally have a moment alone. He absently strummed, letting his mind wander. He wasn’t surprised when his thoughts settled on the guitars hanging on Pete’s walls. He didn’t feel so bad about his infatuation with Pete anymore now that he knew he felt - at least to some extent - the same way.

  
  


“Patrick!” His mom said excitedly over the phone. He’d called her almost on a whim when he checked his phone. It had been too long. He was probably a horrible son. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m good,” he smiled, sitting up a bit more on the porch swing. Since he’d sat down, the sun had gone down, leaving the only light coming from the moon and through his window from inside “sorry I didn’t call sooner,”

“Oh that’s just fine, we’re just glad to hear from you, how’s work?”

“I think I’m getting a handle on it, I really like all the kids,”

“No one is…?” she trailed off, but the implication was clear.

“I’m sure there’s Republicans, I try not to think about it too much,” he admitted.

“Does that worry you?”

He thought about bringing up that it only worried about it when he was reminded about it, but that seemed low “there are plenty of Republicans in Chicago too.”

“ _ Financial _ Republicans, though, that’s different,”

“Still vote for the same party. I’m not saying it’s okay, it’s just… I think it’s just a little unfair that people demonize southerners but excuse people who would try and take away human rights for tax cuts. It seems almost worse for all these CEOs and lawyers in Chicago living in penthouses who say they’re liberal but will overlook the people dying in their own city just because they don’t want to pay more taxes so that people can afford cancer treatment.”

He felt bad once he finished talking and she fell silent “I’m sorry,” he eventually sighed “it’s just been bugging me. Some of my friends made me realize I was doing it too and I feel bad, I guess,”

She seemed glad to have a change in topic “do you still have the same friends as before?”

“Pretty much, yeah,”

“Maybe one of these days I’ll get to meet them?”

Patrick smiled “I’m sure you will.”

“Does that mean you’re going to have us down there before you move back?”

The question caught him off guard. He realized that the last his family had heard, he was moving down to Winchester to save up until he could afford to live in Chicago again “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that actually…”

He paused and pursed his lips when he heard her draw in a quiet breath “is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, mom, I’m just… thinking that, now that I’ve been here a few months,” he’d known for a while what he wanted, but admitting it to his family made it feel real “I’ve been thinking I might stay here. I really like it here, and I’ll always be able to visit so…”

“Well,” she started, Patrick could barely pick up the waver in her voice, but it was still there. It was the same thing he’d heard when he first told her he was going to have to leave the city. And when he came out. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, you’re… you’re not a child anymore, and your father and I want you to be happy, but we also want you to be safe, and of course we miss you a lot, dear,”

“I know, mom,” he said, cutting himself off as his voice broke. He wiped his eyes with his free hand before picking his guitar up to go inside. No matter how alone he was, he really didn’t want to cry in public. “I miss you too, but I really like it here,”

“It’s still a big decision, maybe you should take some time and think it over?”

“I have thought it over, and this is what I want to do. I love you and dad, and the city, but just… this feels like home… I really love my friends and my job and there’s some parts I’ll never get or even like but this is where I want to be. For now at least. I don’t see myself leaving right now.” This was the first time he’d felt truly confident in a decision in a long time. As many uncertainties as there were, he still knew that he wanted to stay in Winchester.

“If you’re sure… as long as you’re happy and safe, that’s what matters…”

“I am, mom, I’m happier than I have been in a really long time, and I feel really safe. It’s hard to explain. People look out for each other, even though they don’t know me all that well, I don’t think anyone would try anything,” he meant it too. He couldn’t imagine anyone actually trying to hurt anyone. Maybe he was naive, but in Chicago he worried about being mugged or his apartment being robbed or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time on his walk home or taking the wrong uber or meeting up with someone from a dating app who actually wanted to murder him but he hadn’t worried about any of thse things in a long time. He had things that still made him anxious, but none of them seemed that realistic anymore. He wondered how he’d stayed sane in the city having to be that paranoid all the time. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to go back to that if he tried.

“I’m not sure I understand it, but I trust you to make the best decision for you,” she said, “have you thought about what you want to do for Thanksgiving? There’s always a spot at the table for you here, if you want it…”

Patrick hadn’t been wanting to go back to Chicago for Thanksgiving, but talking to his mom and hearing how nervous she sounded, like she was scared he’d say no, he couldn’t not accept “I’d love that. I’ll look at how many days I get off and start looking into tickets.”

“Oh, good!” she said with both surprise and joy clear in her voice “I’ll go tell your father, he’ll be so excited! And your grandparents have been asking about you, I’m sure they can’t wait to see you.”

He smiled and leaned back against his front door “I should probably get going now, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Of course, dear, that’s fine,” she said “have a good night. I love you”

“Goodnight, mom. Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is going up a day late, I had something come up last night, but it's up now so. As always thank you for reading and remember that comments keep me motivated so if you have any thoughts or things to say about this chapter or fic please let me know! My tumblr is lupinwritings if you want random fandom related ramblings or behind the scenes fic stuff. Have a good week and I'll see you next Friday/Saturday!


	21. Chapter 21

Patrick knocked on Pete’s front door, not sure if Pete would be okay with him letting himself in. He waited a few seconds before Pete yelled “it’s open!” inside, his voice easily carrying through the open window. Patrick turned the doorknob and stepped in, only to be met with two paws on his chest with surprising force.

“Bowie, down,” Pete said sternly as Patrick kneeled down to pet the dog “I’m so sorry about him,” Pete continued as he came down the stairs.

“He’s fine. I like the name.” Patrick shrugged, closing the door behind him and sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Thanks,” Pete said, meeting Patrick’s eyes and smiling “thanks for coming, I’m,” he looked away for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck. Patrick tried not to be too obvious as he watched Pete’s arms flex, easily visible with the tank top he was wearing “sorry I wasn’t more clear last time,”

Patrick leaned over and put one hand on Pete’s shoulder “it’s okay,” he laughed “that’s life, I guess, I’m more annoyed at myself for not checking my phone than anything.”

“Do you want to go sit somewhere that isn’t the floor?” Pete asked, patting Bowie’s stomach when he rolled over onto his back.

Patrick laughed again and nodded, standing back up “sounds good. Lead the way,”

“Did you come straight from work?” Pete asked casually, standing as well.

Patrick nodded “I hope I didn’t catch you off guard.”

Pete shook his head and took Patrick’s hand to lead him up the stairs “I wanted to see you. I was kind of hoping you would.” Patrick smiled and followed Pete, almost a bit disappointed when Pete walked past his bedroom. He hadn’t come over just wanting to sleep with Pete, but given the opportunity… “Patrick?” Pete asked, and Pete realized he hadn’t heard what he’d said.

“I - uh…” he stuttered before shaking his head “I’m sorry, what?”

Pete only chuckled and leaned back against the back of the couch “you are so cute…” he muttered as he pulled Patrick gently closer by his chin and kissed him. “I asked how your week was,” he smiled.

Patrick smiled and leaned against Pete’s chest “sorry, good, glad it’s over,”

“Yeah?” Pete asked. He did that a lot. Patrick loved it probably more than he should. It made him feel like Pete was actually listening and actually cared “what’s it like having a weekend?” he teased.

Patrick rolled his eyes and smacked Pete’s arm “don’t make me feel guilty about that, you dick,”

“I’m only messing with you, baby,” Pete said before leaning back against the couch until he fell back onto the cushions. Patrick scoffed but wasn’t about to actually raise any complaints about the way Pete was laying across the couch. “C’mere?” Pete asked, pulling gently on Patrick’s belt when he crossed to the right side of the couch.

Patrick let Pete pull him closer and tried to ignore any feelings of self-consciousness when Pete pulled him on top of him. He hadn’t ever gotten completely comfortable putting his full weight on someone, but Pete didn’t seem to notice or mind as he shifted up on one elbow and pulled Patrick down to meet him halfway and kiss him. Pete’s hand on the back of his neck and then in his hair and his subtle movements under him were enough to distract him. “Did you invite me over just to sleep with me?” Patrick teased after a minute.

“Only partially,” Pete smirked, falling back onto the couch cushions “can you blame me?”

Patrick squeezed his legs around Pete’s hips and rolled his eyes “well, what else did you bring me here to do?”

Pete shrugged and ran his fingers along the inseam of Patrick’s jeans “anything you want. I could take you around and see the animals before it gets dark,”

Patrick smiled, mentally measuring how long they had before sunset. He was glad he hadn’t held off on coming over. He didn’t want any reason to rush tonight.

  
  


“Have you ever ridden a horse before?” Pete asked as he walked with Patrick towards the barn behind the house.

“Oh no you don’t,” Patrick protested, stopping in his tracks.

“What?” Pete asked, turning on the heel of his boot.

“You’re not putting me on a horse,” Patrick said firmly. He wasn’t scared of horses, he just had a healthy respect for them. They were very large and strong and he’d definitely hurt that they could break fingers and possibly break them off. He wasn’t about to find out.

“I didn’t say I was. You okay?”

Patrick straightened up a bit “I’m fine, I just… don’t really want to ride a horse,”

“Okay…” Pete said uncertainly “so have you ridden a horse before?”

Patrick shook his head “that obvious?”

Pete smiled and took Patrick’s hand “I won’t make you do anything,”

“I don’t trust you,” Patrick said before pursing his lips.

“Do you really think I’d make you do something you don’t want to do?” Pete asked. The sun was getting low enough to start casting long shadows across the landscape behind him.

“No,” Patrick admitted, wrapping his arms around Pete’s neck “but I think you’d tease me for it.”

“And if I promise not to?”

“Then you’d be a liar, because you definitely will tease me,”

Pete chuckled and ruffled Patrick’s hair “I guess you’ll find out, come on,”

Patrick felt a bit better as he followed Pete again. As Pete slid the bolt on the barn door aside to open the doors, Patrick was surprised that it didn’t smell bad like an animal shelter, instead it just smelled like hay and wood shavings. He looked down when he felt Pete’s fingers intertwine with his.

“I’ll show you the nicest one first, okay?” He said, walking Patrick farther in.

Patrick clenched his teeth, not so much out of his own anxiety anymore but more because he was determined not to make a fool of himself. A brown horse poked its head out of the stall, making Patrick jump at how big it was and how close it got. The horse made a surprised noise and shook its head, jerking away from Patrick as well.

“Easy,” Pete said, but Patrick didn’t know who it was directed at “horses get scared really easily. She’s more scared of you than you are of her so try not to jump or yell.” He instructed, running his hands down Patrick’s tensed arms.

“They say that about tigers too, and they can eat people,” Patrick countered, only partially joking.

“I promise Dolly won’t eat you,”

“Is that her name?” Patrick asked, leaning back against Pete a bit more. Dolly’s head was about the size of Patrick’s torso so Patrick was pretty sure that if she really wanted to, she probably could.

“Dolly Parton,” Pete nodded, reaching out one hand to pet her nose.

Patrick had to laugh, tilting his head back into Pete’s neck. He felt safer being closer to Pete. “Do you name all your pets after celebrities?”

“Just these two. You want to pet her? I promise she’s friendly.”

Patrick sighed before reaching out one hand and putting it on top of her nose. It was surprisingly soft, not at all like a dog’s. Her nostrils flared for a moment and Patrick almost pulled away but Pete squeezed his wrist “she’s just excited,”

“Do horses bite?” Patrick asked, hesitantly curling his fingers to scratch her face.

Pete moved Patrick’s hand up between her eyes “they can. She won’t, though.”

“And you know that how?...”

Pete chuckled “want me to prove it?”

“Not if you’re going to get yourself bitten,”

Pete chuckled and let go of Patrick to step closer to Dolly. Patrick watched wide-eyed as Pete put both hands on her face and put his thumbs into her mouth. As she opened her mouth, Patrick caught a glimpse of large, blunt teeth but Pete didn’t react, wiping his hands off on his jeans and turning back to Patrick. “See? She won’t bite.”

“You’re insane,” Patrick said, shaking his head. He was impressed, though.

Pete chuckled and reached for Patrick’s hand, only for Patrick to jerk his hand away “absolutely not.” He laughed.

“Oh come  _ on _ ,” Pete rolled his eyes “you’re such a wimp,”

“Your hands have horse slobber on them, you asshole,” he protested, pulling his own hands up and backing up. 

He didn’t move fast enough, though, because Pete still caught him by the hips and pulled him back “what did I say about yelling?” 

Patrick swallowed, briefly worried that Pete was actually upset with him, until Pete’s expression broke into a smile “you’re a dick,” Patrick said, shaking his head and looking up at the barn roof “easily the worst person I know,”

Pete kissed Patrick’s neck and kept a tight hold on his hips, only humming in response.

“You’re such an asshole,” Patrick sighed, working Pete’s hair out of the bun it had been tied in so he could curl his fingers into it. He let Pete back him up until he was pressed back against a hay bale. He shifted to catch Pete’s lips, wrapping his arms around his neck. He only broke away when Pete slid his hands up to just below his ribs and he lifted Patrick off the ground so he was sitting on the hay bale. The bale was surprisingly solid and not nearly as comfortable as he’d thought, but he wasn’t about to complain as he wrapped his legs around Pete’s waist and kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy, as always! And of course I hope this chapter provides a good distraction from constantly checking the US election updates like I've been doing. I hope everyone is doing okay! I always move comments so feel free to leave any thoughts you have there or let me know on tumblr (lupinwritings)! See you next week when hopefully the US will be in a more stable and hopefully place!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning for the second half

“What time is it?” Patrick sighed, pushing Pete back with his knee. The barn was gone dark and the hay was starting to make Patrick’s arms feel itchy.

“Does it matter?” Pete chuckled, tucking his face into Patrick’s neck and nipping teasingly.

Patrick rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms back around Pete’s neck, absently scratching at his wrists “I’m curious. And please don’t give me a hickey, Pete, I have to teach Monday,”

“Here I was liking the idea of people knowing you’re off the market, so to speak,”

“Stop it,” Patrick smiled, one hand carding through Pete’s hair “I don’t want people to talk,”

Pete lifted his head and put his forehead against Patrick’s “how long do you want to do this?”

“This?” Patrick asked hesitantly before swallowing. He really hoped Pete didn’t see this as something short-term.

“I already don’t care what people think of me and I know it’s different for you, but do you ever see yourself telling people about this?”

Patrick leaned his head back against the wall. He was sure the wood would catch in his already tousled hair. He hadn’t wanted to worry about that yet. “I don’t know… isn’t it a little soon to worry about that?”

Pete hesitated for a moment before he took a step back “yeah, good point. Do you want to go back to the house?”

Patrick frowned. He couldn’t see Pete well but the way his tone had shifted told Patrick something was off. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t know, Pete. What happens if people don’t accept it? How do you think people would like their kids being taught by a gay teacher?”

“Honestly?”

Patrick tensed. He had an idea of how people would react, he probably didn’t need to have it spelled out for him, but if he couldn’t handle Pete telling him he definitely couldn’t handle it happening. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“About as well as they take my family being black and my white dad marrying my black mother and our town’s best general store being run by a Jewish family and the pastor’s son being a satanic anarcho-communist. People cope. It’s your life at the end of the day but, Jesus, ‘Trick, can you stop acting like you’ll die if some Confederate flag-flying, blue-lives-matter, focus-on-the-family dumbass doesn’t like you?”

Patrick looked at the dim silhouette of Pete for a moment, unsure of how to react, before he laughed softly at the preposterousness of everything. He hopped off the hay bale and grabbed Pete by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. He might not be quite ready yet, but Pete was right. He’d rather be happy than make homophobes comfortable.

“If it makes you feel better,” Pete said, kissing Patrick’s temple, “I think it would have been pretty cool to have a gay teacher when I was in high school.”

  
  


Once inside in the bright light of Pete’s bathroom, he saw that the skin on his arms under his rolled-up sleeves was red and irritated. He rubbed soap over his forearms and splashed cold water up his arms until the itching subsided some. If this was the price he paid for dating Pete, he’d take it.

“Everything okay?” Pete asked when Patrick walked back out. He was sitting on the bed in just a pair of sweatpants, a computer open on his lap.

“Yeah, why?” Patrick asked, crawling into bed beside him.

“Because generally people don’t get drenched from using the bathroom,” Pete joked, gesturing to the splashes of water across Patrick’s shirt “should I be concerned?”

“Jeez,” Patrick sighed “I hoped you wouldn’t see that. My arms are just itchy. I think I’m allergic to hay.”

Pete smiled and put his laptop down, leaning over to kiss Patrick “it’s a bitch, huh? You get used to the itching after a while. You want to take a shower?”

“I think I got most of it off,” Patrick said, looking down at his arms.

“Shame,” Pete teased “do you at least want some clean clothes?”

Patrick pursed his lips for a second before shaking his head “later.”

“Please tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying,” Pete muttered, kissing his way down Patrick’s neck.

Patrick didn’t push him off this time and leaned further into his touch while trying to keep his hands steady enough to unbutton his shirt. “Do you have to work in the morning?” Pete asked, dodging the question. He was fairly certain it was rhetorical.

“I’ll be back before you wake up.”

Patrick smiled and nuzzled Pete’s hair until he lifted his head and kissed him. Patrick shrugged his shirt off and ran his hands along Pete’s shoulders and to his neck. “Why are you so good to me?”

“You deserve it,” Pete whispered, hands moving to the button of Patrick’s jeans “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re about to get laid,” Patrick laughed, straddling Pete’s hips after kicking his jeans off.

“I’m not,” Pete paused, his forehead against Patrick’s. The lamplight turned Pete’s amber eyes gold.

Patrick ran his thumbs over Pete’s cheekbones and hummed, wondering what he’d done to end up here. “I’m going to miss you over Thanksgiving,” he said without really meaning to.

“Are you going home?” Pete asked, hands on Patrick’s hips, his thumbs rubbing the space between his hip bones and pelvis. It was an unusual combination of casual and sensual. It was comforting, though.

“Back to Chicago, yeah, my parents always make a big deal out of thanksgiving.”

“I’ll miss you too, in that case,”

“What does your family do for the holidays?”

“This is the least erotic bedroom talk I’ve ever heard,”

“Oh my god,” Patrick laughed, hiding his face in Pete’s neck “I’m so sorry, I don’t know where that came from,”

Pete chuckled and slid one hand to the small of Patrick’s back, subtly shifting him closer “you’re so cute.”

“Please don’t make fun of me. I don’t know how to shut up.” Pete mumbled, his face heating up.

“I’m not making fun of you. But I can make you shut up if you want,”

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut, that wasn’t helping how embarrassed he felt “you’re so selfless.”

“Don’t worry, I reciprocate too,” Pete chuckled leaning back enough to see Patrick’s face. Something about his smirk made Patrick feel very exposed.

“What?” He asked, meeting Pete’s eyes for a moment before Pete glanced back at his lips.

“Just thinkin’,”

“That’s a terrible answer,” Patrick crossed his arms over his chest “about what?”

“You’re going to call me an asshole if I tell you,” Pete said as he leaned back against the pillows. Patrick was almost a bit surprised when as Pete laid down he felt Pete’s dick against his thigh.

“Now you have to tell me, asshole.”

Pete sighed melodramatically before he licked his lips. There was no way that was accidental. “Just thinking about how pretty you’d look giving head,”

Patrick rolled his eyes, trying to act like that hadn’t gotten his heart racing. His attempt to seem like he didn’t care fell apart as he shifted back and pulled Pete’s sweatpants down.

“I didn’t really expect that to work,” Pete chuckled, pushing Patrick’s hair back and watching him, the way his eyes widened giving him away no matter how casual he tried to look.

“Can you just shut up?” Patrick said, trying not to smile. There was something very enjoyable about making Pete break. Patrick thought he was pretty good at doing just that.

Pete hissed and arched his back, his hands gripping Patrick’s hair almost too tightly as Patrick slid Pete’s cock into his mouth. “Shit, ‘Trick, please,” he whined.

Patrick was a very big fan of how expressive Pete got in bed. He wanted to find everything that made him react and push all of his buttons. He pushed his head down further, tears pricking at his eyes as his gag reflex was triggered, looking up at Pete as he did.

Pete’s hips twitched under Patrick and he could tell Pete was actively stopping himself from fucking up into Patrick’s throat. Part of Patrick wanted him to, but he liked how Pete wouldn’t without asking first. The idea of Pete using his mouth wasn’t one he was opposed to, though. “That shouldn’t be that hot,” Pete breathed, using his thumb to wipe Patrick’s eyes “I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that,”

Patrick tried to swallow the drool collecting in his mouth, only succeeding in gagging again and releasing drool down his chin, he probably looked like a mess. He wondered if he stayed still long enough would Pete start fucking his throat.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” Pete breathed, tilting his head back for a moment “you’re killing me,”

Patrick wasn’t able to smile much in his current position but he was certainly amused as he slowly dragged his head up and down a few times before sitting back up on his knees, wiping drool off his chin “everything you hoped for?”

Pete watched him and groaned “Patrick, please,” he breathed.

“Please what?” Patrick teased, watching the way Pete’s chest rose and fell quickly as he panted. His tattoos looked better in the yellow lamplight and covered in sweat.

“I don’t care what you do, just do something,” Pete said, slowly propping himself up on his elbows.

Patrick hesitated a moment (which was probably torture for Pete but he also probably deserved it) “can I fuck you?”

“God," Pete choked out, "please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Consider this a PSA that hay is not as comfy as media would lead you to believe, it's pointy and itchy. I also wasn't intending to write another sex scene this chapter but here you go anyway. As always, I love comments so if you have any thoughts feel free to let me know! I love to hear from you guys! See you next week!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: homophobia

Patrick adjusted the backpack strap on his shoulder as he walked, trying to ignore the way that his knees ached from sitting so long. The overly air-conditioned hallway made him shiver as he navigated the crowd. He was relieved when he reached the end of the hallway and the crowd started to disperse.

“Patrick!” Joe’s voice said from somewhere in the hoard of people. Patrick looked around, confused, before he met his eyes and carefully navigated his way over, trying not to get in anyone’s way.

“Hey,” he smiled “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour, my flight got in early,” he sighed and rubbed his eyes “please tell me I didn’t give you the wrong time,”

Joe patted Patrick’s back and shook his head “believe it or not we just got here early. Something about missing you.”

Patrick rolled his eyes “shut up. We?”

“Pete and Andy went to get coffee. They’ll be back any minute, and Pete will probably throw a fit that he wasn’t here to welcome you.”

Patrick chuckled and shook his head before setting his backpack down, rolling his shoulder to relieve the steady ache “that sounds like him. How was your Thanksgiving?”

Joe shrugged “same as always. Lots of food. A few family arguments. Yours?”

“About the same. My mom always makes a huge deal of it and invites everyone, even though none of us really know each other. It’s always a little awkward. And everyone kept asking about life here as if I have anything interesting enough to say to entertain the whole family.”

“Have we not made enough entertaining memories?” Joe asked, one eyebrow raised as he leaned back against the wall.

“You know that’s not what I meant, my family wants to hear about whether I have a girlfriend - even though they’ve all seen my mom’s Facebook posts about how proud she is of her gay son every single June - and how my classes are going and when I’m coming back and I don’t have very exciting answers to any of those.”

“You sure?” Joe asked, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Patrick was about to ask what he meant (though the paranoid part of his mind already had a feeling that he knew) when he heard rushed footsteps behind him, distracting him. He spun around, only to smack into Pete. Patrick couldn’t see him well but he knew the smell of Pete’s cologne and the feeling of his arms around him - plus Patrick couldn’t think of anyone else who would be that excited to see him. Patrick wrapped his arms around Pete in return and pressed his face into the warmth of his neck. Spending Thanksgiving away from him had been hell.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too,” Pete said, nuzzling Patrick’s hair. He hadn’t complained at all when Joe had offered to pick him up from the airport, apparently along with Pete and Andy apparently, but for a moment Patrick wished that he could have been here alone with Pete. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Joe and Andy to know, but there was something comfortable about not having to worry about people’s perceptions.

“Alright, lovebirds, let’s go.” Andy said from behind them, making Patrick jump back a bit “sorry, Patrick, I would have gotten you a coffee if I knew you were in already.”

“It’s fine,” he said, hoping to sound casual “I missed you guys,”

“We missed you too.” Andy said “how was Chicago?”

“Cold,” Patrick laughed, squeezing Pete’s hand as he interlocked their fingers. Pete clearly wasn’t too bothered by anyone else seeing them. Patrick tried not to feel nervous about it, even though he knew that this was Savannah in a crowded airport and chances are that no one would notice or even care, the last few months of putting himself in the closet had started to make him feel like he’d never left it in the first place. “I didn’t know how quickly I’d get used to the heat but I could barely go outside without a sweater - and it’s  _ November.” _

“Well, it’s starting to cool down here,” Joe said “so hopefully you haven’t become too cold-insensitive. Should we head over to the garage?”

“Sure.” Patrick said, picking up his bag “how cold does it get here anyway?”

“It sometimes gets down to 40 or so when we get cold fronts, probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.” Andy answered.

“Or not so used to. We’ll make a real southerner out of you yet.” Pete joked. He slipped his hand into Patrick’s back pocket as they walked behind Joe and Andy.

Patrick rolled his eyes but didn’t complain besides that. Joe had managed to find a spot not far from the elevators so it wasn’t a long walk. Once they got to the car, Pete all but pulled Patrick into the back seat with him. He wasn’t complaining, he’d missed Pete and he was quickly realizing how tired he was, the idea of being able to spend this two hour long car-ride asleep on Pete’s shoulder wasn’t one that Patrick was opposed to. “Did you tell them?” He whispered as he leaned against Pete’s side, hoping that the music playing through Joe’s speakers and the GPS instructions wouldn’t drown him out.

“About us?” Pete whispered back, wrapping his arm around Patrick casually.

“Yeah,” Patrick sighed, pushing his backpack onto the floor so that he could stretch out more.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t do that without asking you first.”

“You’re not exactly being subtle,” Patrick smiled, closing his eyes.

“It’d be more suspicious if I  _ wasn’t _ flirting with you. And you’re completely irresistible.”

“Shut up,” Patrick pressed his face into Pete’s shoulder and yawned “stay with me tonight? I don’t have anything to do tomorrow.”

“Of course. You gonna go to sleep?”

Patrick nodded, curling his arm around Pete’s “wake me up when we get close.”

“Okay, sugar. Sleep well.”

It took a while for Patrick to fall asleep, but he wasn’t about to move when the car was finally quiet and Pete was probably the best pillow he could get in the backseat of Joe’s car. It was dusk, just dark enough that the street lights were turning on, the light would be fully gone by the time they got back into Winchester. Patrick watched the streetlights pass as he focused on the way Pete’s fingers were drumming against his hip. They were on the highway by the time Patrick’s eyes started to grow heavy and he finally fell into a deep and very needed sleep.

  
  


Patrick woke up against Pete’s chest. The sky outside was dark but bright fluorescent lights filled the car with yellow light. While Patrick had slept, Pete had shifted so that Patrick was laying with his back against his chest, his arms around Patrick’s waist. “Are we home?” Patrick mumbled, looking up at Pete and reaching for his hands.

Pete kissed his forehead before glancing out the window “almost. Joe’s getting gas. You want anything from inside?”

Patrick shook his head and ran his fingers along the inside of Pete’s wrist “I’m okay,”

Something on Pete’s face changed and he gently pushed Patrick to sit back up. Patrick was too tired to really comprehend what was happening until Joe got back into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot a little too fast. As he did, Patrick saw the large confederate flag hanging from one of the other trucks and the man standing beside it, watching their car pull out. Once they were out of the parking lot, Pete shifted closer again “sorry,” he muttered “I’m sorry.”

“You see that guy too?” Joe glanced back at them.

“Yeah. Fucking asshole.” Pete breathed, wrapping his arms back around Patrick.

“It’s okay, thank you,” Patrick whispered back, not noticing how his hands were shaking until he reached for Pete’s.

Andy lifted his head off the window and yawned “huh?”

“Some asshole with a rebel flag and a lifted truck.” Joe said, waving his hand casually.

“Did he do anything?” Andy asked, sitting up straighter.

“No, of course not,” Pete answered “just glared at us. Coward.”

“Do people ever do anything?” Patrick asked, squeezing Pete’s hands.

“Sometimes they’ll yell, but usually that’s all. Especially when they’re outnumbered.” Pete answered as he glanced behind them.

“Don’t tell me he’s following us,” Joe sighed but there was an edge to his voice. Patrick sat up a bit more to look behind them as well until Pete settled back down and kissed Patrick’s temple.

“No, just checking. We’re good.”

Patrick relaxed back against Pete, though the tension wasn’t really gone yet. He wouldn’t be falling back asleep any time soon. Probably not until he was back in his own house and even then… his heart was still hammering at the thought of someone actually trying to hurt them just for existing. “Are you okay?” Pete asked after a few minutes.

“Not really.” Patrick admitted quietly “you’ll stay with me, right?” he asked again, mainly just to hear Pete say it again. He couldn’t be alone tonight. He should have been used to homophobia. He’d heard just about every slur in the English language and experienced plenty of homophobia during high school but he’d almost gotten used to not experiencing it.

“Of course. You two okay?”

“Well apparently I slept through the whole thing,” Andy mumbled, leaning back against the window.

“I’m fine, you guys?” Joe said, glancing behind them in the rear-view-mirror once more.

“We’ll be okay,” Pete said, squeezing Patrick’s hand. Patrick had a feeling that he was saying it more to him than to Joe. Patrick still wanted to be open with the rest of the world about how he felt about Pete but at the same time he sometimes wondered if that was really a good idea. He hoped he was just being paranoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! As always I love comments so leave any thoughts you have in the comments, they keep me motivated and make me happy! I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next week!


	24. Chapter 24

Patrick sat up in bed, legs tangled in the sheets, at the sound of his door opening. The sun was just starting to rise but the curtains kept most of the list from getting into the room. The door shut again, quiet enough that Patrick wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t already on high alert, then footsteps. 

_ “Don’t tell me he’s following us,”  _ Joe had said last night like it was a real possibility. Had that bigot followed them? Had he remembered to lock the door?

The footsteps started coming towards Patrick’s room. Fuck. It was like he knew exactly where to look. Had he been watching them last night? Pete probably would have left not too long ago. Was he okay? Had he been waiting for Pete to leave to get them both alone?

He finally tore his eyes off the closed door to glace at his bedside table. In Chicago he’d kept a bat beside his bed, he should have brought it with him. He grabbed his water bottle, it was metal and better than nothing, before looking back at the door just in time to see it start to open. With his heart hammering and bile stinging his throat, he launched the water bottle as hard as he could.

Patrick had never been a baseball player, and it seemed that he never would, because the water bottle hit the wall with a loud clang before falling to the ground.

“It’s me!” Pete yelled, ducking and raising his hands to protect his head “fuck, ‘Trick, I surrender, cease fire!”

Patrick brought his hands up to his mouth as Pete switched on the light “oh my god, I am  _ so _ sorry,” he said, crawling over to the foot of the bed “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Pete said, taking Patrick’s hands “good arm, by the way,” he glanced at where the bottle had hit, leaving a noticeable dent in the wall.

“Holy smokes,” Patrick sighed, leaning his head against Pete’s stomach “I’m sorry,”

Pete ran one hand through Patrick’s hair as he slowly slid down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Patrick “you’re okay, baby, you’re fine,”

Patrick hooked his chin over Pete’s shoulder “sorry, I’m just so on edge right now and after last night…”

“I know, I should have - just breathe, okay?”

“I’m so paranoid, and jet-lagged, and my head hurts, and-”

“Patrick - please,” Pete interrupted “you’re okay, you don’t have to apologize. I just needed to run out to get some stuff done at home.”

“I probably should have thought of that,” Patrick said, laughing softly “anything else you need to do this morning?”

Pete shook his head “I am all yours now.”

“Let me make it up to you?”

“You don’t need to, but I won’t complain,”

  
  


Patrick ran his fingers up Pete’s chest, sunlight now bright enough to light the room.

“You still awake?” Pete asked groggily, one arm sliding under Patrick’s body to wrap around his waist and pull him closer.

“Can’t sleep,” Patrick said, shifting to rest his head on Pete’s chest.

“You sore?”

“A little,” Patrick admitted “and stressed about getting ready for work tomorrow, and fixing the dent in my wall, but…”

“But?” Pete asked after a minute.

“I really don’t care about that right now,” Patrick smiled.

“You seem like you’re in a better mood,”

Patrick looked up at Pete “you have that effect on me.”

“Are we doing something besides sleeping today then?”

Patrick nodded “yes, but I have no plans on leaving this room except possibly for food.”

“Please,” Pete chuckled “have I mentioned how much I missed you?”

Patrick stretched his back, trying not to wince at the pain that shot through him “mhm,” he mumbled.

“You okay?”

“Uh huh,” Patrick nodded, settling back down “I’m fine,”

“You’re such a liar,” Pete grinned “you just don’t want to admit that I did a number on you,”

Patrick groaned “your ego is big enough already,” he looked up “and if you make a joke about anything else being big, I will kick you out of this house.”

“You gonna throw something else at me?”

“Shut up,” Patrick groaned “I was almost done feeling guilty about that,”

“You’ve already made it up to me, so we’re even, but if you’re still feeling guilty you could-”

“Don’t.” Patrick cut him off.

Pete laughed “I was  _ going  _ to say you could make breakfast, you pervert,” he propped himself up on one elbow “but you’re thinking about it… I wouldn’t say no to a second-round first.”

Patrick shoved a pillow in Pete’s face before getting up.

  
  


“So did you tell your family yet?” Pete asked, pouring milk into his coffee.

Patrick paused, an egg in one hand “about us?”

“No, about the pregnancy,” Pete chuckled, setting his mug down before wrapping his arms around Patrick “yeah, about us,”

“No, was I supposed to?”

Pete shook his head before taking the egg out of Patrick’s hand and cracking it into the pan “not unless you want to,”

“Speaking of which…” Patrick said, turning around to kiss Pete “when are you telling Joe and Andy?”

“When am  _ I _ ?”

“They were your friends first, seems wrong for me to do it.”

“Or…” Pete kissed the bridge of Patrick’s nose “we could tell them together?”

Patrick leaned his head back and sighed “it would be so much less awkward if you just did it, though,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete chastised before smacking Patrick’s ass and turning him around “didn’t anyone ever teach you not to get distracted when you’re cooking?”   
  


Patrick turned the heat down on the stove and pulled Pete’s arms back around his waist “have you told your family yet?”

“Not yet,”

“Are you going to?”

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

Patrick smiled “I want you to,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but I hope you enjoy! As always I love comments, they keep me motivated and remind me to write even though things are pretty crazy right now! See you next week!


	25. Chapter 25

The dock over the river seemed dodgy at best. The wood was soft and covered in lichen in many places. Patrick could splinter it away with just a little pressure from his fingers, leaving the rotting wood to fall into the lazily flowing water below them.

Joe shifted his fishing pole to his other hand and leaned against Patrick “are you doing something to scare all the fish away?”

Patrick chuckled and looked at him, his face hidden by a mop of curly hair. He’d given up on any fish biting a while ago, he didn’t have the same patience as the others. He’d never really believed the whole “instant gratification” thing about younger generations, but he was starting to put more stock in it. “Why am  _ I  _ scaring them away?”

“Because…” he paused for a second, presumably trying to think of a comeback, then laughed, pressing his face into Patrick’s shoulder “are you staying in town for Christmas?”

Patrick let the change of topic go. “Probably,” he was going to instinctively ask what Joe was doing for Christmas but he stopped himself “do you celebrate Christmas”

Joe sat back up and shook his head, reeling his line in to check the lure before casting it again “not really. You can’t really ignore it, though, and I assume you do,”

Patrick watched the bobber float down the water until it ran out of slack “yeah, I do, I’m not making a huge deal out of it, though.”

Joe chuckled “people ‘round here go all out for Christmas,”

“I assume it doesn’t snow at all?”

Joe shook his head, laying back on the dock “it sometimes frosts, and once and a while we get a really light snowfall but never enough to do much with it. Do you miss winter in the city?”

Patrick pursed his lips, flicking a leaf into the water and watching it get caught in the small water cyclone around the post of the dock “a little. I don’t miss having to wear ten layers just to not get hypothermia or never being able to feel my fingers when I took gloves off to use my phone or the gross sludge we always got or how bad the roads got,” he watched the leaf get sucked under the surface of the water and then disappear into the dark water “but I miss being under a blanket by a fireplace when it’s cold outside,”

“You’re such a sap,” Joe laughed.

“You asked!” Patrick retorted, elbowing him.

“You’re scaring off the fish!” Joe said, dropping his pole on the dock to push Patrick with both hands.

Patrick braced himself with one hand on the dock post and the other on the planks beneath him. He was worried for a moment the wood would give way but it held the extra pressure. He was about to turn to push Joe into the water when a car engine turned off nearby. Both of them looked at the road, temporarily distracted from their tuffle. They couldn’t see the road because of the dense trees surrounding the river but they could hear Pete complaining about carrying the cooler.

Patrick couldn’t help but smile.

“Took you long enough,” Joe said, shifting to watch Pete and Andy come into view.

“Eighteenwheeler tipped over on the highway, traffic was backed up for forever,” Andy said, kicking his shoes off and sitting down beside Joe “and someone’s shop doesn’t carry anything other than cheap beer,”

“Bring it up with the management,” Joe muttered, “and why do you care if you don’t even drink?”

“Because I’m the other poor bastard who has to bring snacks, which means carpooling with Pete, which means it matt-”

Joe laughed, cutting him off and grabbing the cooler from Pete, who sat down beside Patrick, his hand grazing over Patrick’s back as he did. “Anything exciting happen while we were gone?”

“I almost got pushed into the river,” Patrick smiled, subtly leaning against Pete.

“You do something to deserve it?”

“He’s being sappy and scaring the fish,” Joe said, poking Patrick with a stick before tossing it into the river.

“He’s like that,” Pete said quietly, smiling as he picked up Joe’s discarded fishing pole and recasting it.

“You have no right to call anyone out for being loud and sappy,” Andy teased.

“He’s got a point,” Patrick smiled, trailing his fingers along the inseam of Pete’s jeans while Joe and Andy were distracted by a splash in the water.

“Shut up,” Pete said “I think I left my phone in the truck, want to come with me?”

Patrick almost said no and that Pete should just get his own phone until he caught on to what Pete was hinting “sure, someone needs to make sure you don’t get lost,” he said, getting up and following Pete up the natural trail to the road.

Once they got to the road, even though Pete had known they weren’t here just for a phone, he was still surprised when Pete shoved him up against the truck and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Pete’s neck and worked his hair out of the messy bun so he couldn’t tangle his fingers into it. “You are such a tease,” Pete all but growled as he nipped Patrick’s ear, making him flinch and cover his mouth to stay quiet.

“I didn’t do anything,” he hissed through his fingers before squeezing his eyes shut as Pete slid his thigh between Patrick’s legs.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” Pete chuckled, his eyes darting down to watch Patrick subtly grind against his thigh “that turn you on?”

Patrick leaned his head back against the metal and sighed, his breath shaky despite his best efforts to seem nothing but annoyed “you’re fucking disgusting.”

“Should we talk about that, though?” Patrick asked breathlessly, running his short nails across Pete’s scalp enough to make Pete tilt his head back.

“Right now, sugar? You really want to talk about coming out to our friends right now?”

“If we don’t say something you’re going to get us caught is all,” Patrick shrugged, only to shudder and all but collapse into Pete as he pushed his thigh higher between his legs.

“You want me to stop then?” Pete asked, sliding his hands down to Patrick’s hips.

Patrick considered it for a moment before nodding “we shouldn’t do this right now,”

Pete immediately stepped back and brushed off his wrinkled clothes, tucking his shirt back into his jeans “okay. So what do you want to do?”

Patrick smiled and pulled Pete closer again “what I  _ want _ to do is let you do whatever you want with me, but what we should do is talk about if, how, and when we’re going to tell them,”

“Baby, please stop saying things like that,” Pete chuckled “today?”

Patrick nodded “if you want. I’m tired of sneaking around.”

Pete nodded and kissed his cheek “alright. Give me a few minutes?”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded “me too. I think we’d give ourselves away if we went back now,”

Pete smiled and glanced over Patrick “let me take you home tonight?”

“Please,” Patrick chuckled before slowly pushing Pete back “seriously, we need to talk about something other than sex,”

“How is your class going?” Pete asked casually like he hadn’t been talking about sex just a moment ago.

Patrick chuckled and looked up at the branches covering much of the sky “it’s fine, I have a project to write up for Monday. This is really the topic you’re going with?”

“It’s working, isn’t it?” Pete shrugged “Something else you’d rather discuss?”

“No, this is fine,” Patrick said, pushing Pete’s hair back behind his ear “keep distracting me,”

“It was an eighteen-wheeler carrying bagels,”

Patrick laughed and furrowed his eyebrows “it was what?”

“The truck that tipped over on the highway, it was an eighteen-wheeler carrying bagels,” Pete crossed his arms across his chest “why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not,” Patrick grinned “it’s just - seems like a waste of good bagels,”

  
  


“You two get lost?” Andy asked, raising an eyebrow as they came back into view.

“My phone fell under the seat, took forever to get out,” Pete said casually as he walked back onto the dock.

Joe scoffed, looking back at the river “you missed me catching a catfish,”

“Oh yeah?” Pete chuckled.

“I don’t think it counts if it doesn’t get out of the water,” Andy teased.

Patrick sat down and pursed his lips. Joe glanced at him “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, unclasping his hands and wiping them on his jeans.

“Patrick?” Andy asked, leaning over to see him. Patrick hadn’t expected to feel this nervous but he still couldn’t make his hands stop sweating.

Pete kneeled down beside him and put his hand on his shoulder “you want me to say it?”

It wasn’t that Pete didn’t want to say it, he just didn’t know how. He didn’t want to say something wrong and regret it later. He hadn’t expected this to be so difficult. He cleared his throat and clenched his teeth, letting out a long breath through his nose, eyes still locked on the river. “I just don’t know how to say it so I’m just going to - um,” he cracked his knuckles nervously before Pete patted his shoulder.

“Let me?” Pete asked and Patrick just nodded, letting him continue “what we’re trying to say is that Patrick and I have been together for about a month now,”

Patrick ground his teeth. Pete seemed so much more confident and comfortable. Patrick could feel a slight tremor in his wrist, though.

“Fuck,” Joe said, making Pete flinch slightly and Patrick’s heart jump into his throat “you couldn’t have waited one more month to tell us?”

“Pay up,” Andy said, holding out his palm.

Patrick was completely shocked. He had no clue what was happening. Too many scenarios were running through his mind. Pete seemed to get a hold of the situation a moment before he did. “You made  _ bets _ on our relationship?”

“It was obviously going to happen,” Andy shrugged.

Joe handed Andy his wallet and grumbled “I thought you’d wait until after Christmas to come clean,”

“You took fucking  _ bets _ ?” Pete repeated, sitting down beside him and shaking his head “you two are awful,”

Patrick was still too shocked by the whole situation to do more than shake his head until Pete squeezed his shoulder “you okay?”

Patrick blinked and then nodded “fuck, yeah, I’m fine, I just… I don’t know what I expected. Not that.” He laughed. Nervously at first but it became sincere after a second. “I can’t believe you took bets.”

“We get it, we’re awful people,” Joe said “but even though I lost which was bullshit because Andy pressured me into taking the bet in the first place,” he held up his hard seltzer as a toast “I guess I’m happy for you.”

“Here here,” Andy joked in agreement.

“I hate both of you,” Pete chuckled, shaking his head and pulling Patrick over closer to him.

“Can I make a request?” Joe asked, looking at them.

Patrick nodded, though he was unsure what to expect.

“Next time you two go hook up, find a better excuse than losing your phone. I really don’t want that mental image so please be more convincing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for putting up with me missing last week! My exams this semester were way harder than usual and since I haven't been able to get ahead on my writing lately, I wasn't able to get a chapter up last week. Thank you for your patience. I'm really excited to be starting TWO new fics soon, the first few chapters of both are already written and will go up soon. What those are will be announced in the notes next week or up on my tumblr (lupinwritings) right now so my followers on there get a sneak peek. I hope everyone is enjoying the last month of 2020! Thank you all for reading! As always, I love comments!


	26. Chapter 26

Patrick jumped nearly out of his seat when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Patrick, how are things going?”

Patrick forced himself to relax as he turned his head “fine, Father Hurley, I’m just tuning up,” he held the neck of his guitar up a bit as if he wouldn’t be believable otherwise.

“Well, I for one am most excited to finally hear you play. Just in time for Christmas, too, this is just perfect.”

Patrick smiled, though he was still more nervous than he’d been playing in a long time. Playing in the city, he was all but anonymous. If people didn’t like him, they might glare at him or cuss him out or spit at him, but he’d also never see them again so why should he care. Today would be different. He’d have to live with these consequences - whatever they were. He’d have to see these people again tomorrow and just about every day after that. Patrick had finally agreed to perform a few songs after the church service alongside some of his best students and a handful of other local musicians. He felt better about it being able to fall into the background. He did have a few ideas of his own, though.

“I’m happy to help out. You’ve been nothing but welcoming to me and I figured after almost months of teachings everyone’s kids music people should know that I can actually play,”

Pastor Hurley chuckled “I’m sure you can. Don’t worry yourself too much about it. Do you know Mathew 6:34?”

“So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself,” Patrick recited from memory.

“Each day has enough trouble of its own,” the pastor finished “and our standards may be a little lower than music schools in Chicago,”

Patrick smiled but still had to wipe sweat from his clammy hands off on his jeans “you’re probably right about that. I’m going to be ready as soon as I finish tuning,”

“Is that a polite way of telling me to let you get back to it?”

Patrick just smiled “I look forward to the service today,”

“Thank you, Patrick, I think most people are looking forward to your performance more, but I hope to make it a good one,”

Pastor Hurley was true to his word. It was a good service. Every pew was filled shoulder to shoulder with people. Christmas service was always busy no matter where you were but Winchester seemed to get the memo more than anywhere Patrick had been before. All of the usual attendees were there as well as family and friends who were visiting for the holidays and those who didn’t usually attend except for Christmas and Easter. While Pastor Hurley talked about the Christmas story and the importance of family and community, welcoming his flock back to the pasture, Patrick leaned against Pete, not caring who saw. “These look good on you,” Pete whispered, one hand playing with the dress pants Patric had changed into for the service. It had gotten cold over the past few weeks. Cold for Georgia, at least. 

Patrick was about to reply when Mrs. Wentz smacked her son on the knee “no talking in church, Peter.”

Pete sat up a bit straighter and fell silent. Patrick hid a chuckle in Pete’s shoulder before reaching for Pete’s hand. Pete’s hands were cold but Patrick didn’t mind. Patrick’s mother, visiting for the holidays, poked his side and gestured towards Pete, curiosity and confusion written on her face through her furrowed brow and cocked head.

“I’ll tell you later, I promise,” Patrick whispered, leaning over closer to her. He had meant to tell them about Pete before this, he really had, but their plane had gotten in a day later than expected so by the time he was able to drive to the airport and pick them up, it was too late for a long conversation then he’d had to leave early to practice for the service in the morning.

“You’d better, Patrick. Is he at least a nice boy?”

Patrick smiled and squeezed his hand “you’ll love him.”

  
  


Patrick had played enough shows around Christmas to have memorized just about every Christmas carol ever written. There were no amps or mics, the band was put on a stage made of hay bales and pickup trucks behind the church while everyone ate and talked. Despite the makeshift nature of the show, it was the most engaged show he’d ever played. Just about every child in Winchester and the surrounding area was singing along and dancing in the grass in front of them. Patrick smiled as he played. This was why he’d gotten into music. It brought so much joy when done properly. He just hadn’t realized he hadn’t been doing it properly before.

Before the next song started, Patrick stood up. When he’d first requested this song, he’d gotten quite a few odd looks, but he’d promised to give an explanation on the day of. “I know this isn’t a Christmas song,” he said, projecting as best as he could so that he could be heard by the whole crowd “but I wanted to surprise someone with a song that I first heard with him - while he was being made fun of for liking it,” he adjusted his guitar strap on his shoulder before forcing himself to stop, knowing it was a nervous tick “so this one is for my boyfriend and his arguably terrible music taste,”

Patrick was glad that he could look at his guitar as he played the opening lines so he didn’t have to look at the reaction on people’s faces. No one yelled or threw anything, though, so he was doing better than he had thought, though. He hadn’t sung anything besides backup for the other songs but it felt wrong not to take the lead on this one. “ _ Baby, what do you say we just get lost? Leave this one-horse town like two rebels without a cause, _ ” he looked up as he sang the first line of the song, knowing that he wouldn’t be heard otherwise. If he was going to be hatecrimed, fired, or booed off the stage he’d at least put on a good performance first. To his surprise, he didn’t see anyone completely fuming or loading weapons. No smoke coming out of people’s ears like in cartoons. People had paused their conversations to look at him but they didn’t seem particularly angry, though he wasn’t sure he could place exactly what expressions were written across their faces.

Patrick got to the chorus without anyone snatching their kids away from the front of the stage where they were still clapping and singing along and dancing as Patrick sang “ _ Heads, Carolina Tails, California. _

_ Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer. _ ” None of the band behind him had stopped playing in protest either.

_ “Up in the mountains, down by the ocean, _ ” he allowed himself to glance at Pete who was sitting with both of their families, one hand over his mouth but Patrick was fairly certain he was smiling. Shock was clear on Mrs. Wentz’s face as she made no attempt to hide it, but she was holding Pete’s hand so Patrick prayed that that meant she wasn’t mad. Mr. Wentz, who Patrick had only met a few times since he’d gotten back into town, seemed more confused than anything as he watched Patrick. “ _ Where? It don't matter, as long as we're goin' _ ”

Patrick looked at his own family. His mother’s arms were crossed, but Patrick knew her annoyance was from not being told earlier and not any underlying homophobia. “ _ Somewhere together. I've got a quarter. _

_ Heads, Carolina Tails, California. _ ”

Patrick got through the rest of the song without panicking or being booed off stage. In fact, when he finished, the applause was just as loud as it had been for any of the other songs, possibly even louder, but Patrick couldn’t tell if that was just how lightheaded he was feeling making the world sound a little off. Andy and Pete hollered and clapped probably too loud for a church performance but it made Patrick feel confident enough to say his next line without his voice shaking. “We’re gonna take a break for a few minutes and let everyone get food before we come back,” Patrick said before setting his guitar down and hopping down from the back of the pickup. He wasn’t surprised when as he walked over to the table, Pete stood up and hugged him.

Patrick knew most people would already suspect Pete to be the mystery boyfriend without him being named so Patrick tangled his fingers in Pete’s hair, pressing his face into his neck. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” Pete smiled against Patrick’s shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his waist “you’re so amazing, I’m never letting you say you’re not good ever again, seriously.”

Patrick lifted his head after a minute to rest his forehead against Pete’s, still grinning “do you think people know?”

Pete laughed and closed his eyes for a moment “no, not at all,”

“I love you,” Patrick repeated.

“I love you too,” Pete said before kissing him. When they separated, Patrick would have explanations to make to a lot of people. For that moment there wasn’t anyone else in the world, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read through this! This was the longest fic I've written so I know it was a lot but I have been wanting to write this for so long and I wanted time to get as much as I could done. I honestly could keep writing this forever, I love this story so much, but this feels like the right place to end it. Thank you for all the support and lovely comments, feel free to continue leaving them whether you're reading this the day I posted it or a years later, they make me so happy to see that people enjoyed the story.
> 
> As promised in last chapter's notes, I'm going to be posting two new fics soon. One is going to be a peterick doctor au which will probably be very dramatic so I hope you join me for that as well and the other is going to be a momojiro (BNHA) fic. I've never written for that ship or fandom before but I'm super excited for it so if you're at all interested it would make me super happy if you checked it out. Make sure to follow me on tumblr and/or subscribe to me on AO3 if you want to be notified when those get posted.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for all the support during this story. I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I finally did it. It's the AU that I've been wanting to write for YEARS. I really hope you like it, please leave any feedback you have in the comments, I love to hear from you! My Tumblr is lupinwritings if you want updates, behind the scenes stuff, or just general fandom stuff. I'll post chapters every Friday! Thanks for reading and I hope you stick around!


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